Reunion
by Kat36
Summary: Kenshin returns to Kyoto after 10 years, and to a long-delayed reunion with my character Hikaru. Hikaru learns the dreadful secret of the final technique, witnesses the battle at the Aoiya, and learns to accept that Kenshin is now a man. Complete
1. Part 1

First, if you're new to my RK stories, this is a sequel to all the other Hikaru stories posted here ~ "Teahouse", "Sake, Tea, and Cherry Blossoms", "The Lady and the Apprentice", and "The Years of Change". For all of you who have been keeping up with Hikaru and have been looking forward to her stories with the adult Kenshin (including my wonderful reviewers!), this is the first of them, the one where Hikaru and Kenshin meet again after 15 long years.

The Hiko/Hikaru stories from here on need a little introduction, I'm afraid. Please bear with me.

When I first began writing about Hikaru, it was a collaboration with two of my very best friends, Zora and Sher. Each of us had created characters to match with our favorite men from RK ~ Hikaru for Hiko (me), Yukiyo Sasaki for Kenshin (Zora), and Moriko Sagara for Saitoh (Sher). I actually wrote this story a very long time ago, long before most of what is posted here, and at the time, I felt it worked best from Yuki's point of view rather than Hikaru's. I still think that. 

This takes place during the Kyoto Arc, picking up after Kenshin arrives with Misao at the Aoiya. We all three have done our best to fit our characters into the arc without disturbing the storyline. It will help if you have seen the arc or read it in the manga, because I wrote this with the assumption that my readers have, and therefore I haven't rewritten scenes from the show into my story except where absolutely necessary. You can learn all about Yuki and her past at her very own page, http://hikarikat.com/zora/Yukiyo/yukiyo.html, but in brief, for this story it will help you to know that as a young girl she was sold as a slave to an okiya (where geishas are trained), escaped and hid herself by becoming a boy, trained with the sword, and fought with Kenshin during the Revolution. So she and Kenshin go back a long way, and that gave me a way to view this scene without the burden of the immense emotions through which Hikaru and Kenshin were suffering. Besides, it was kind of interesting to see Hikaru through a stranger's eyes.

Not only did Zora allow me to use her character as a point of view, she also spent a lot of her time helping me get everything right, not only about Yuki but also about Kenshin and his story. I owe her a great deal. So PLEASE, if you are a Kaoru/Kenshin fan and can accept no other pairing, then don't even read this story. If you do, and want to review it, stay objective ~ review the story, not the pairing. If you are offended on Kaoru's behalf, I don't want to hear about it. I like Kaoru, but not nearly as much as I like Yuki. Much more important, I think Yuki's a better match for Kenshin. I seriously considered not posting these stories, because I've heard that the fandom can be ruthless, but I would like to trust y'all and share them with you.

None of the RK characters belong to me, and neither does the situation or the Aoiya. All original characters are mine except Yuki, who belongs to Zora.

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Yukiyo Sasaki had never quite lost the boyish mannerisms from her life as Taro, soldier for the Ishin Shishi. Dressed in a light blue yukata and black kendo pants, she came through the kitchen of the Aoiya and grabbed a piece of fruit from the shelf for her breakfast, then went out on the porch and collapsed, relaxed and crosslegged, to eat it. Not ladylike, perhaps, but comfortable. It felt good not to be traveling, and a night in a real bed had made her feel fresh again.

It had also sharpened her eyes and her wits. When she saw the flash of red up the street, what might be red hair on a not-very-tall person going around a corner, she didn't doubt herself, nor did she hesitate a moment. _"Kenshin!"_ she swore under her breath, and leapt to her feet to follow him. She had no idea where he might be going at this early hour, but that didn't matter. She'd sworn to herself not to let him out of her sight while they were in Kyoto, and he knew it even if she hadn't said it, and here he was sneaking out!

Not only was the boy Taro recalled in some of her mannerisms, but also in racing after Kenshin, for she had not forgotten one alley or byway of Kyoto, even though she hadn't been back for many years and the city had changed since then. She ducked through the first alley to her right, the next to her left, around the bakery, and out onto the street, emerging only about ten yards behind Kenshin, who was walking without hurry. Yuki fell into step quietly behind him, just close enough so that she wouldn't lose him if he turned a corner. She followed him for ten minutes, through the busy marketplace near the Aoiya and northward, and she thought perhaps he was heading out of the city altogether, toward the mountain. She couldn't imagine why he would go this direction, but that didn't matter. She was going to watch his back, even if he didn't wish it.

He stopped abruptly, and she slid smoothly behind a gate post and made herself inconspicuous. This area was the better part of town, consisting mostly of residences, and she didn't have so many people to blend with. Had he turned when he'd stopped just then, he'd have seen her. Of course, he probably already knew she was there. She could give him an illusion of being on his own, but she doubted even her ability could hide her from Kenshin's awareness of all around him.

He was still just standing there, looking ahead. Then he turned his head and looked directly at her. She became part of the shadow, in fact shadow herself, a long-ago skill. He smiled. "You can come out now, Yuki, that you can."

As she thought. She shrugged and stepped forward with a wry smile, determined not to be put on the defensive, not when it was he who was in the wrong."Where are you going?"

"To visit an old friend. She lives down there at the end of that road."

Her curiosity was roused. "Who is she?"

"Her name is Hikaru Kimiyama."

"The potter's wife?" She could admit to herself, now, the little twinge of jealousy she'd so rigorously suppressed. Madame Kimiyama had to be nearly 50 years old.

"You know her?" He seemed pleased at the idea.

"No, I've never met her," she admitted. "But of course I've heard of her." Everyone in Kyoto knew about Toshiro Kimiyama and the wife he brought home from Edo. "But how do you know her?"

"That's a very long story, and we're almost there."

Translation: he wasn't going to tell her. "I'm going with you, Kenshin. Even here in this part of town, there could be danger. Shishio's men are everywhere."

"If you want to, then come with me," he said agreeably.

"I'm coming with or without your permission. I'll wait outside the house, if you want, but I'm coming."

"You don't need to wait outside. I'm sure Madame Kimiyama will welcome you, that she will." He smiled. Then he was striding off again, and she had to hurry to catch up.

"Is Madame Kimiyama one of the people you asked Okina to find for you?"

"She wasn't on the list, but I did ask him if he knew her. He said pretty much the same thing you did, but he was also able to tell me that she is a widow now. That is a great sorrow. Toshiro Kimiyama was a very good man. However, Hikaru-san still lives in Kyoto and in the same house by the shop."

"How do you know her so well, a woman like that?"

"It does seem funny, doesn't it?"

"Very," she said drily. She would just have to wait until he was willing to tell her. "That's it right ahead, isn't it? The green gate with the arch over it." She realized that she'd come a step ahead of him, and turned.

His steps had slowed, and when she turned, he stopped altogether.

"Kenshin? What's wrong?"

He rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish. "I'm not sure she's going to be glad to see me. I left without saying goodbye, you see, a long time ago. She might be angry with me, that she might."

That was almost what he'd done to her, eight long years ago. The only difference was that he had said goodbye – but he'd done it in a letter, left for her to receive when he was hours gone. "Do you make a _habit_ of just leaving people like that?"

"Only when I think I have to," he said nervously.

"I'm beginning to understand. You did it for her own good, then?"

"Actually, I wish I could say yes to that."

"Then why?"

He looked at the ground for a long moment, then back up at her. "You will understand when you meet her, I think. But after the Revolution, I didn't want to face her. Not as I was. She would have been ashamed of me. No," he amended. "Not that. But she would have made me even more ashamed of myself, because she would have forgiven me. And pitied me."

"And that would have been the worst of all."

He nodded. "I don't really remember my mother, you know that. When I think of having a mother, I think of Hikaru-san. When I was with my Master, she loved me as if I were her son. I couldn't bring myself to come to her with so much blood on my hands."

This, Yuki understood completely. But she was shocked that he had never once even _mentioned _Madame Kimiyama to her. In all the time they'd shared, as close as they had been, as much and as intimately as they had talked, he had never told her that there was a woman in Kyoto so important to his life. He knew everything about her, all of her secrets. She'd always assumed she knew all of his. He'd shared many which were terrible, yet not this one, which seemed wonderful. After a speechless second, she said, "Why haven't you ever talked about her before? You've never even said her name to me."

"That's why I'm telling you now, before it's too hard to do. I wouldn't come here at all, that I wouldn't, except that if she learned I'm in Kyoto and didn't come to see her..." He shrugged expressively.

"Come on, what's the worst she can do to you? Get really angry and throw you out? That's not so bad."

"Oh, no. That's not nearly the worst." He looked thoroughly miserable. "I hope she _is_ angry with me, and shouts and hits me with something, like Miss Kaoru would, that I do. But most likely she will cry, and I have never seen her do that."

Yuki wouldn't blame the woman if she did cry. She rarely cried, herself, but she'd gotten teary-eyed when she saw Kenshin again after all the years of separation, so she would understand it. Still, she didn't want to be a third person in so uncomfortable a scene. "I hope she shouts."

"I have never heard her raise her voice."

"Maybe she will this time. You deserve it, you know. Didn't you even write to her, to tell her you were alive?"

He shook his head. "I believed she would be happier, eventually, if she thought I was dead. She's a gentle woman, Yuki. She never understood the sword or the reason for the Hiten Mitsurugi. And I never thought I would come back to Kyoto. Did you think you would?"

"No. Never." She took his arm. "Come on. You have to do this. You owe it to her."

This, it seemed, was the right thing to say. He straightened. "That I do," he said, and walked on.

At this early hour there were no customers in the pottery shop, but workers were already inside, dusting and readying the shop for business. A young man came forward at once to help them, but warily, with one eye on Kenshin's sword. When Kenshin asked for Madame Kimiyama and gave his name, the man's attitude changed from wary to frosty. He turned to another clerk and said, "Get Bunto." Then he turned back to Kenshin and said, "Himura, huh? Well, at least you remembered the red hair."

_"Oro?"_

"What, do you think you're the first Kenshin Himura to be wandering in here, hoping to take advantage of our lady?"

The back door of the shop opened and a man came through, a man who made Yuki wish she'd had time to bring her own sword. He wasn't much taller than Kenshin, but was all muscle and sinew, with his right arm missing below the elbow and a patch over his left eye. His visage, scarred by the cut which had cost him the eye, was ferocious even in repose, but now, with anger in it, it was scary. Then he saw Kenshin, and his entire bearing changed. He grinned hugely. "Little Himura! You have grown!"

"Hello, Bunto," Kenshin said with a polite bow. "It's been a long time since I used to sneak down to talk with you, that it has. This is a friend of mine, Yukiyo Sasaki."

They exchanged bows, and Bunto assured her, "Any friend of Himura's is welcome in this house. Come, I'll take you to the lady."

The clerk was staring at them, mouth agape. "It's the real Himura?"

"Of course it is. Get back to work," Bunto snapped, and the clerks, who had all been staring with unabashed curiosity, immediately turned away and pretended to be busy. But Yuki could feel their eyes on them all the way out of the shop, and her shoulderblades shuddered, although there was nothing threatening in a bunch of pottery sellers.

Almost as if reading her mind, Kenshin said ruefully, "I suppose there will be gossip now."

"Not from them," Bunto growled. "I'll see to that. They're loyal to the lady." He led them through the back of the shop, to a long hallway. On either side, doors were slid open to reveal workrooms and shelves of stored pottery, where artisans glanced at them only in brief curiosity before returning at once to their craft.

Kenshin said, "What did they mean, when they spoke of other Himuras, Bunto?"

Bunto glanced at him, then stopped, rubbing his flat nose with one finger. Words obviously came hard to him. "When you disappeared, after all the fighting was over, the lady tried to find you. Word got out that a wealthy woman was looking for you because she was fond of you. Naturally there were vultures who wanted to take advantage of her, especially when years went by and no one heard from you and everyone thought you were dead. After the first one upset her so badly, I have taken care of the rest before they ever reached her eyes." He opened the door at the end of the hallway and ushered them outside.

Yuki had heard of the Kimiyama gardens, but even so, after the clean, brisk efficiency of the shop and workrooms, the luxuriant beauty on the other side of the door was a shock. They stepped from the porch onto a walk flagged with small flat stones in a variety of pastel colors, which led between two beds of brilliant pink azaleas to a stone bench beside a waterfall, trickling into a clear pool in which floated a single lily, all set in artistically arranged, balanced stones covered with bright green moss. Beyond was a vista of paths, bridges and ponds, half-hidden by stands of bamboo and flowering trees. From somewhere out there came the sound of a woman's voice raised in a song of praise for the gifts of Buddha. Her voice was very clear and obviously well-trained, yet full of joy. The song made Yuki want to raise her own voice in harmony.

Quite unnecessarily, Bunto informed them "the lady" was in the gardens. "But come with me to the house to wait for her. I think it would be best if I told her you were here. She finally convinced herself that you were dead. In fact," with a wave of his stump toward the gardens, "there's an altar out there for your spirit. I think I should break this to her gently."

Poor Kenshin looked as if he wished he _were_ dead.

The house, in its own way, was as lovely as the gardens. Although there was nothing obviously rich or ostentatious about it, and it was sparingly furnished, everything was of the best quality, from the rice paper in the wall frames to the soft tatami on the floor. The cabinets were lacquered and painted with traditional motifs, and while the two kotatsu tables were plain, the wood was polished so highly that the grain seemed alive. Exquisite vases held flower arrangements, and the flowers and silk-covered pillows added bright warm color to the room. On one of the tables was a wide, shallow bowl of paper-thin porcelain in which lotus blossoms floated on a bed of water. Yuki felt out of place in this room, even a little shabby and dirty. She stared hard at a vase of unusual, twisted shape, the bends traced with pine boughs, to avoid looking at her dusty feet when they slipped off their zori at the door.

A woman came at once, but Bunto waved her away, saying, "The lady will serve them herself." This brought a deep and reverent bow from the woman as she backed out of the room. Bunto said, "Please make yourself at home. The lady will be with you shortly."

"Right, make ourselves at home," Yuki muttered under her breath as soon as the man was gone.

Kenshin grinned at her. "It is very pretty, isn't it? I never noticed, when I was a boy. And I begin to understand some things now."

"What things?"

"About my Master."

His Master? What did Seijuro Hiko have to do with it? But before she could ask, they heard the sound of light, running feet outside. The sound stopped abruptly, and after a moment the door was pulled open and a woman came in, speaking cheerfully in a rich clear voice. "I hear I have company," she said with a smile at both of them. Then her gaze locked on Kenshin and the brittle, false lightness fell away. _"Kenshin,"_ she said, and her lower lip trembled and disappeared between her teeth. Yuki realized that the brightness of her eyes was due to unshed tears. _Oh, no. He's right. She's going to cry._

Kenshin looked as if he'd rather face Shishio and Soujiro together, barehanded, than to be here at this moment. He took refuge in a deep bow. "Hikaru-san."

She took a step toward him. "You're _alive._ And you're here, you're really here. It really is you." She put out a hand to touch his face, the unscarred side. As if that touch convinced her he was real, she suddenly sobbed and put her arms around him. The movement was oddly awkward, as if she'd never hugged him before, but once started, she hugged him as if she'd never let him go, her face buried in his neck. He held her and patted her back and looked at Yuki with an expression that said clearly, _See? I told you this was going to be bad!_

Yuki felt sorry for him, but at the same time she watched it all with intense curiosity. How in the world had Kenshin come to mean so much to this grand lady? Because she was a grand lady. Not just her reputation told Yuki that. Nor did her clothes, which were a plain purple kimono with a simple obi over black kendo pants, her head topped with a wide-brimmed straw hat, now knocked askew. The house said it, of course, but it was mostly in the way she stood, the well-kept hands, the straight-backed supple grace with which she finally released Kenshin and dried her eyes, and most of all the dignity that she was trying so hard to regain.

"Kenshin, where have you _been?"_ she asked him.

He smiled at her. "That would be a long story."

She put her hands to her temples. "What am I doing? I'm forgetting my manners. Who is this young lady?"

"Yukiyo Sasaki, a friend of mine."

She and Yuki bowed to each other, perfectly and formally correct. "You are most welcome here, Yukiyo Sasaki. Please forgive my discourtesy."

"I understand. Your servant told us you thought Kenshin was dead, so it must be a shock to see him again."

"It is, but," she drew a shaky breath and glanced again at Kenshin, "a most welcome one. Please, Miss Yukiyo, will you not sit and be comfortable? My home is yours. If you will excuse me for a moment, I will fetch tea."

Just like that, she disappeared. Yuki sank down next to Kenshin and whispered, "I think she's gone to cry some more."

"That she may," he admitted ruefully. "We should pretend not to notice."

"Yes. And I see what you meant before. If she were my foster mother, I wouldn't have come to her after the Revolution, either."

"Still, I think I made her very unhappy, that I did."

He looked so unhappy himself that she squeezed his hand and said, "You made her happy again today. The worst part's over now."

He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed. "True."

"Kenshin? How did you ever meet her in the first place?"

He sat up and smiled at her ruefully. "I knew you were going to ask."

"Naturally. I know what you were before the Revolution, and it wasn't someone who would cross the path of a lady like this."

"She is an old friend of my Master's."

That explained it. But it led to another question. "But what does she have to do with Seijuro Hiko? How did _they_ ever become friends?"

"I don't really know," he said, as if just now realizing how strange it was that he was in ignorance on the subject. "Neither of them ever told me. And I was just a boy, so I didn't think to ask."

Ten minutes passed before Madame Kimiyama returned, ushering in three women carrying trays. She brought not only tea but wine and sake as well, and tiny porcelain bowls of seasoned rice, and a tray of sweets like none Yuki had ever seen. She had changed her clothes; she still wore the kendo pants, but the plain purple kimono had been replaced by a black one with golden birds embroidered on cuffs and hems, and the straw hat was gone, her hair now dressed with ivory combs. She also had regained her self-possession, chatting pleasantly to both of them on neutral subjects while the women laid out the refreshments. Yuki noticed that the lady's eyes were still reddened, and she pitied her, so she exerted herself to help Madame Kimiyama pretend, at least for a short time, that this was just a normal social call. The lady's own manners made this easy. Even Kenshin's offer of condolences for the loss of her husband was accepted gracefully, with exactly the right blend of regret, sorrow, and gratitude to Kenshin for his sympathy.

Then Yuki noticed something else that altered her feelings completely. She wasn't sure what first caught her attention. Maybe that very correct bow, earlier, exactly the proper bow from an older woman to a younger, and now, reinforcing the impression, some little trick of movement. Whatever it was, suddenly alerted, she looked closer and saw that part of the reason Madame Kimiyama looked half her age was that her face was subtly painted. There was nothing to hide, for she was a lovely woman, but what was good in her features and complexion had been enhanced with great skill. Senses tingling, Yuki watched even more closely, seeing the signs now in everything Madame Kimiyama did, from the dulcet lowering of her eyes as she spoke with Kenshin to the graceful, ritualistic little gestures as she poured the tea for all of them. And, of course, there was that singing voice, trained just as her own had been.

It was impossible. But she couldn't be mistaken. She herself had been trained in an okiya, and she knew the signs. This lady, the respectable wife of the widely loved and respected Toshiro Kimiyama, had once been a geisha.

She felt herself growing cold as the unwelcome knowledge pushed its way past her incredulity. She began to tense, beginning with her legs and moving up her body until her teeth were actually clenched. Of all things in life, one of her greatest fears was being recognized as the girl who had run away from her okiya. She could tell herself with all the logic in the world that this woman was too old to have been anywhere around when she had been enslaved there, and that, supposedly, she had come from Edo anyway, so there was no way she could recognize her. None of this mattered. For every argument like that, there was a corresponding fear that she would do something that would give her away as surely as Madame Kimiyama was now giving herself away.

The tension grew too great to bear, and she shuddered. Madame Kimiyama was at once solicitous. "Are you cold? I can shut the door."

"No. I'm fine," she said gruffly, and applied herself diligently to a delicate sweet made of almond paste that she swallowed without tasting.

Her free hand was fisted in her lap, illogically wishing for her sword. Kenshin covered it with one of his, and when she glanced up and met his eyes, he smiled and gave her a slight shake of the head, as if to say, _It's all right. Trust me._

If she hadn't trusted him, she would have already run out the door. Kenshin knew her past. He must know Madame Kimiyama's as well, or he wouldn't so obviously understand why she was tense now. She had to believe in him. He wouldn't bring her into danger. He simply wouldn't.

If Madame Kimiyama noticed any of this, she gave no sign, but dismissed the servants and continued serving. Although she was unfailingly courteous, it was obvious her real attention was on Kenshin and not this strange young woman in her home, and Yuki took some hope from that, shrunk into herself, and assured them by both words and actions that she knew they had some catching up to do and that she wouldn't mind at all being left out of most of the conversation for a while. If Madame Kimiyama's manners betrayed her background, so, too, might Yuki's. She wanted to be invisible.

Whether deliberately or not, Kenshin aided her by answering Madame Kimiyama's question about where he'd been for the past ten years. Being Kenshin, however, he simply said he'd been wandering, and the conversation turned, both because of Kenshin's own reticence and the lady's courtesy, to Tokyo and Kenshin's new life there.

But Madame Kimiyama was not totally distracted. "You still carry a sword," she observed dispassionately.

He wasn't fooled by her tone. "It's a reverse blade sword. It can harm no one."

"Then why carry it?"

"I sometimes find it useful."

"For what? Chopping wood?"

This was said tartly, and seemed only to amuse Kenshin, for he laughed. But Yuki looked up and said, "It's for self-defense and protecting others. There are always men who want to carve a reputation out of Kenshin's hide so they can go around saying that they killed 'the Battousai'. They don't care that 'the Battousai' they're after died with the Revolution."

She regretted speaking at once, but the look she got from Madame Kimiyama had nothing but approval in it. She liked it, apparently, that someone defended Kenshin. "I see. Yes. I think I understand." She gave Kenshin a look of deep sadness. "Does it ever stop?"

"Sometimes it does," he said cheerfully. "You must not be worried for me."

"If I were Seijuro, I would tell you bluntly what I thought of such a silly statement, but I'm not, so I will simply say that having you here, and alive, to worry about – that is a good thing." She tilted her head. "Are you going to see him?" she asked quietly.

"That is one reason I am in Kyoto. I want to complete my training, if I can, and learn the last secret of the Hiten Mitsurugi style."

Madame Kimiyama sat back and stared at him. "You won't get a warm reception."

"I don't expect it. Is he still disappointed with me?"

The lady laughed, an unexpectedly merry sound. "Disappointed? Seijuro? You know how he can hold a grudge. He's still _furious_ with you!"

"After 15 years?"

"He's still angry with me about something I said to him the day we met, and that was more than 25 years ago," she smiled. "But – why now? Why do you want to finish your training, after so long?" Kenshin didn't answer, and Madame Kimiyama, whose mind was very quick, set down her teacup and narrowed her eyes at him. "Does this have anything to do with Shishio Makoto?" she demanded. "Kenshin? Does it?"

"Why do you think that?" Kenshin hedged.

"Because everyone in Kyoto knows that man measures himself against no one but the man you once were. Tell me you don't plan to fight him!"

But Kenshin was not going to lie to her. "I must."

_"Why?"_

"Because no one else can, and he must be stopped, that he must."

"There's the police, the army..."

"He has defeated both of those forces, easily."

"Kenshin! He won't just fight a duel with you! It won't be that easy! He's surrounded by warriors. You'll have to fight all of them, not just a clean, one-on-one battle with him!"

"If that's what I must do, then I will."

Yuki said, "He isn't alone."

"No," Kenshin said with a smile at her. "I have friends. And I hope Master will help me, if in no other way, then in teaching me the final technique of the Hiten Mitsurugi style. If I can learn that, I have a very good chance of defeating Shishio, even with his warriors between us."

There was a long silence. Then Madame Kimiyama drew in a deep breath. "This is not right. You've already done enough fighting."

"No, but it is something I must do, nevertheless."

"There's nothing I can do to help you! I can't even help you with Seijuro. We have never agreed when it came to you. Anything I say will simply stiffen him even further against you."

"I will find some way to convince him that he is still my Master," Kenshin said, although he didn't exactly sound sure of himself.

She refilled his tea cup, and then Yuki's and her own, while she tried to bring herself to accept what he was saying. "Do you know he is still in the same cottage?"

"Yes, I found that out. But he changed his name, I heard. And took up pottery?"

"I taught him."

Yuki looked up again. The man who had taught Kenshin everything he knew about the sword had become a _potter?_

Kenshin was grinning. "So Seijuro Hiko was the apprentice?"

She laughed with him. "Not for long. You know Seijuro. He picked up the techniques almost faster than I could teach them. But the concept that it's also an art... that, he found harder. By the time he finally grasped it, we were barely on speaking terms. Now we market some of his work, and he does the rest himself. I must admit, even after all these years, and as much as I hate the reason for it, it will seem much more natural up there with you two sparring."

"I'm not looking forward to it."

"You survived it as a child. And you are no longer a child. Are you?"

"No, that I am not."

Suddenly, as if she couldn't help herself, she said, "Don't do this. _Please._ Go back into hiding. Live your life. Don't fight Shishio. You don't know what he's become. He's a monster."

"Hikaru-san," he chided, gently but firmly. "I know more than you think. But Shishio must be stopped, and it seems I am the only one who can do it."

"It's not fair," she said in a small voice. Then she regained her self-control yet again. "I suppose if Seijuro couldn't talk you out of something you set your mind on when you were still a boy, I have no chance at all now that you're a man. If there is anything I can do for you, anything at all, even the smallest thing, you know you have only to ask."

He bowed.

"Do you have a place to stay?" she asked, including both of them in the question. "There is plenty of room here."

"Thank you, that's kind of you. But we are staying at the Aoiya."

She nodded. "With the Oniwaban group. I suppose that's wise."

"Yes. Shishio wouldn't hesitate to strike at me through the people I care about. I won't put you in danger."

The tiniest of frowns creased her brow, and she looked at Yuki. "But Miss Yukiyo...?"

"I can take care of myself," Yuki said. "And I'll have the Oniwaban to protect me." If it should come down to fighting, she actually expected to be of more help to the Oniwaban than the other way around, but that was something she wasn't going to mention. Hiding her past was second nature to her now.

They spent another hour with Madame Kimiyama, long enough to include a tour of the gardens, which was, for Yuki, the only really comfortable and enjoyable part of the visit. When they were taking their leave, Madame Kimiyama asked Kenshin, "You'll send me word how things go with Seijuro? If he takes you back, he won't want me visiting."

Kenshin smiled. "He never did, that he didn't. But you came anyway."

She remained sober. "I won't now. This time it's different. Isn't it?"

"Yes, Hikaru-san. Many changes have taken place, and there will be more changes to come. But," the smile returned, "when everything is finished, maybe you and I and Master can sit and drink sake together again, the three of us, as we used to do."

"If it's as we used to do, you will be drinking tea, not sake!"

Kenshin laughed with her. "I see Master hasn't changed."

"Not one bit. Dare we invite Miss Yukiyo to join us as well?" she asked with a sparkling, sidelong glance at Yuki.

Kenshin rubbed the back of his head. "That depends."

"You don't have to tell me what it depends on." The time had come to say goodbye, and the fear, never far from Madame Kimiyama's eyes, returned again. "You will be careful?"

"That I will." It was a promise.

She turned to Yuki. "You'll come again? You will be welcome, any time."

Yuki bowed and thanked her. She wasn't sure what to say. There was too much she didn't know, too much that passed between Kenshin and this lady which was from their past and she didn't understand. She couldn't tell yet how much of Madame Kimiyama's courtesy was sincere and how much was simply good manners. She didn't trust the lady.


	2. Part 2

Just a little side note on this story ~ again, it's from Yuki's point of view, and for various reasons, Yuki does not like Hiko. Part of the reason is, of course, that Yuki is defensive when it comes to Kenshin. (Who among us isn't? He's a love.) But the rest of it is that, well, Hiko isn't exactly a likeable man. Heh.

To Pika: A small note of explanation about the stress on the geisha aspect. Yuki ran away from her okiya, robbing them not only of a slave they'd invested in, but also a sum of money equal to what she had been "worth" to them. If caught, she would undoubtedly be jailed or, more likely, put to death.

To all those who took the time to write a review ~ thank you. Folks like you keep the creativity flowing.

There is a little bad language in this chapter.

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The streets of Kyoto were crowded at this time of day. They walked in a companionable silence, their thoughts of too great importance to be disturbed with small talk in the presence of strangers. The Aoiya was full of people as well, they both knew, people who loved Kenshin and wanted to be with him, and who would not give them any private time despite their best intentions. Therefore, when they passed a park and Kenshin glanced at her, they needed no further words, but turned into the gate and found a bench as far away as possible from the only other people there, a family with several rowdy children. Kenshin frowned when looking at the children, and she knew what he was thinking. Kyoto was a city of peace now, so very different from the Kyoto they had known, but Shishio, a dark curse from the past, threatened that peace again. Kenshin was feeling the weight of responsibility for that family and all the innocent citizens of Kyoto, and Yuki took his hand to remind him that he did not have to bear it alone. He didn't look at her – he would bear it alone if he could – but he didn't release her hand, either.

They sat quietly for a little while, Kenshin pensive, Yuki trying to sort out her thoughts. Finally she bluntly asked the question that was uppermost in her mind. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"About Madame Kimiyama? I already explained that, so I did."

"No. Why didn't you tell me she was a geisha?"

"Oh, _that."_

"Yes, _that."_

"Truthfully? I forgot all about it."

"How could you forget something like that?"

He held up both hands in mock defense, laughing. "I can explain! You see, when Master told me about it, I was only eight or nine years old. I believe he only told me because he believed it would make me less attached to Hikaru-san. But all he said was that she worked in the Edo teahouses, and I was too young to understand what he meant, that I was. I just assumed that was where she learned to make such good tea." He laughed again, at his own child-self, and she had to join him. He said, sobering, "When I did learn what he meant, many years later, I had already joined the Ishin and it didn't seem important. I never thought about it again until today, and then only because I saw you tense and wondered why. But I'm sorry, Yuki. If I had remembered, I would have warned you. Still, you don't need to fear Hikaru-san."

"If you trust her…"

"I trust her completely, that I do."

"Then I won't worry."

"Yes, you will. I can see it on your face. But if you get to know her better, your worry will disappear, that it will. I would not only put my life in her hands, but yours as well, without hesitation. That is how much I trust her. But I knew her for many years, and you have only just met her."

Anyone else might have pointed out that fifteen years was a long time not to see someone, and that the lady might have changed. But anyone else did not know Kenshin. Yuki did. She still didn't want Madame Kimiyama to know about her past, but the last wisp of fear faded. "Now tell me about Madame Kimiyama and your Master."

He jumped. _"Oro?_ What about them?"

She couldn't resist teasing him, but she did want to know. She wanted to know a lot more about a woman Kenshin spoke of in those terms. "Are you going to tell me they're just friends?"

"I'm not going to tell you anything, that I'm not, when I don't really know."

"I'll wait until I meet your Master, then, and see for myself. I'm curious about him anyway, after listening to you and Madame Kimiyama talk about him. Other than that he taught you the Hiten Mitsurugi style, treated you like a slave, and is alarmingly huge," she smiled, "you haven't told me much about him. And right now he's a puzzle to me."

"Why a puzzle?"

"Because of the way you and Madame Kimiyama talk about him. If I had read the words the two of you used, instead of heard them, I would think he was a terrible man. Yet you both like him, I can see that. And that doesn't make sense." That Seijuro Hiko might be unpleasant was not what confused her. He sounded typical of many masters of martial arts that she'd seen and purposely avoided when seeking her own training, brutes and bullies who thought to pound discipline into their apprentices. What intrigued her was the fondly tolerant smile that came to the faces of both Kenshin and Madame Kimiyama when they spoke of him. They obviously cared deeply about him, and that was the puzzle.

Nor was Kenshin much help in explaining it, because he didn't try to explain it at all. He just told her she would understand better when she got to know him. "Although you may not get the chance, depending on how everything turns out."

"Do you mean the fight with Shishio, or whether Master Hiko will take you back?"

"Both, I suppose."

"If he does take you back, how long do you think it will take before you master the succession technique?"

His hand tightened on hers for a moment, although he was looking far away from her now. "I don't know, but it can't take too long. I don't have the time to spare. Too many people are suffering. You heard what Hikaru-san said."

Yuki nodded. "For a potter's widow, she seems to know a lot about what is going on in the city, and with Makoto Shishio."

His attention came back to her. "She knows a great many influential people, and she has always been able to gather information, that she has. Master used to call her the only woman he knew who could gossip about important things. I used to wonder why, as impatient as he was, he would sit and listen to her for hours. Now I understand. In the past few hours I learned a great deal about what Shishio has been doing recently, and I am less sorry than ever that I came. Hikaru-san has given me strength today."

"But she doesn't want you to fight. You can see it scares her." It scared Yuki, too, but Kenshin didn't need the added burden of her own fears. "She didn't try to talk you out of it again, but still, it was obvious." She sat thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "What that woman doesn't say is as significant as what she does say."

Kenshin looked at her, curious. She said, "You didn't notice? She never again asked you not to fight, but we both know she'd rather you were anywhere but here right now. She didn't have to say it, yet it was clear. Then there was the Revolution. She only mentioned it if she had to, and, Kenshin, she never even said the word Battousai. Not once. Yet she made it perfectly clear somehow, even without mentioning those things, that we were _not_ going to talk about them. It was weird," she added absently, thinking about the long conversation. "She asked about your wandering days, and all kinds of questions about us and your life in Tokyo, but it was as if she'd drawn two lines in the past, before and after your Battousai days, and erased everything between. As if she isn't going to admit, to herself or anyone else, that you've ever been anything other than a little boy or a wanderer. You know," she added, "I think I like that about her better than anything else."

Kenshin's smile broke out. "Master wouldn't agree. He called it hiding her face behind her fan. He used to say that whatever Hikaru-san doesn't want to see, she simply won't look at."

"It's not necessarily a bad quality. At least she chooses well, what she wants to be blind to."

"That she does. You're beginning to like her, aren't you?"

"I don't know yet. I just met her! And she didn't really talk to me." At Kenshin's expression, she said, "No, I didn't feel ignored or excluded. Her manners are far too good for that. But that was all it was, good manners. She wasn't interested in me at all."

"I would think, after realizing she was once a geisha, that would make you happy."

"It did. But I felt very odd with the two of you."

"I'm sorry, that I am. I was afraid that might happen."

"You don't have to apologize. It's natural. The two of you share a past that I know nothing about."

"You're starting to frown at me again. I already said I'm sorry I didn't tell you about her before."

"Tell me now."

"I don't know what to tell. There were so many years, Yuki, and so much of what happened had to do with my learning the Hiten Mitsurugi style. Hikaru-san never _did_ anything, she was just always there."

"She must have done something. Something good, I think. I've never seen you act around anyone the way you do around her. As if you care for her, but also as if you owe her something beyond just respect and affection."

He rubbed the back of his head. "I do. I just never thought about it before. But I still don't know how to explain it, that I don't. The only thing I can say is that, while Master was teaching me, Hikaru-san was always trying to be a mother to me."

Yuki picked up at once on one word. "Trying?" she repeated.

"Yes. Only trying. Master didn't approve of it, that he didn't. Her presence interfered with my training."

She got an image of a faceless Master forcibly separating Madame Kimiyama and a young Kenshin, and she scowled. "That makes him sound like a harsh man. I'm surprised he didn't just forbid her seeing you."

"He couldn't do that. I don't know why, that I don't. I know he _wanted_ to. But Hikaru-san was always too clever for him. He kept saying he would order her not to come, but he never did, and she came at least once a week." He smiled, a smile so deep in the past that almost all the shadow was gone from it. "And when she was there, both of us were happier, Master and me. That's all I can tell you, honestly. I don't know how to explain it any better, that I don't."

"I think I understand," she said. _Maybe even better than you do, Kenshin_. She believed she knew now where the gentle side of Kenshin came from, the part of him which had emerged as the Battousai died. She had thought at one point that her impression was wrong, that Hiko couldn't possibly be the typical bullying type of swordmaster, because that side of Kenshin was so strong and true. Now she realized that, left to his own devices, Master Hiko would have done exactly as she expected and molded Kenshin into nothing more than a man with a sword and a belief in justice. Kenshin's sweetness, his deep ability to love, might have been born in him, but Madame Kimiyama had nursed those precious qualities in the boy and kept them alive while he was being taught to kill. At least that was how it looked to her, and getting to know Hiko and Madame Kimiyama better would confirm it or prove her wrong. She would get to know them, too, whatever it took. Not out of mere curiosity, but because the real Kenshin, the one who was not the Battousai, came from those years.

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More than 24 hours later, Yuki approached the Aoiya in the very early hours of the morning, where the lamps on the front of the inn shone very bright after a long walk in starlight. She was in the company of Kaoru, Misao, and young Yahiko, but she was lagging a little behind them, letting both Kaoru's concern for Kenshin and Misao's and Yahiko's conversation flow past her, such minor annoyances that she barely felt them. They were tiny candles compared to the flame of her annoyance at Seijuro Hiko, now that she had finally met "The Great Man".

Master Hiko had turned out to be even worse than her expectations. He was not only an arrogant bully, he took those qualities to a fine art, refining them so that they were not only a club but a knife. He'd humiliated Kenshin, made him beg, then denied him, all with casual cruelty and no understanding of the man Kenshin had grown into. To give him credit, Hiko had listened carefully to what the others had told him about Kenshin's life in the past 10 years, including Yuki's privately-given account of what had happened with Tomoe during the Revolution, and he had changed his mind and taken Kenshin as his apprentice again. But whatever benefit that had toward mitigating Yuki's dislike of him had been instantly seared away by his attitude afterward. He not only acted as if he were a god dispensing Truth and Wisdom to his inferiors (that is, every other human being), he also treated Kenshin – _Kenshin,_ of all people! – like a particularly idiotic child, and every word he spoke seemed calculated to _continue_ to humiliate him.

Yuki's departure with the others had been something of a retreat, because she wasn't sure she could restrain her more violent impulses if she heard the words "stupid apprentice" one more time. Hiko had exacerbated her temper even more when she'd planned to go to Kenshin and give him a quick goodbye and a wish for good luck. Hiko hadn't let her, but instead had told her, essentially, to get off the mountain or he'd throw her off. She'd been so angry then, she had insulted him back and then stalked away before she did worse, leaving the others to follow however they could. Had the situation not been so desperate, and Kenshin so determined, she would have dragged Kenshin right back down the mountain, leaving Master Hiko with nothing but some more vulgar words. Even now, thinking about it, her hand flexed on her sword hilt. Rarely did she wish for her own skills to be more murderous, but right now she would have liked them to be enough to lay a certain Hiten Mitsurugi Master in the dust.

"Hey, Yuki!"

She snapped out of her reverie at once. Yahiko's voice could almost wake the dead, never mind cut through thoughts she didn't really want to think. They were standing in front of the Aoiya, and Yahiko, oblivious to having disturbed her in any way, was asking her opinion of the Hiten Mitsurugi succession technique and what she thought it might be. "I don't have any idea," she said. "Didn't we already discuss this?"

"Yeah, but you didn't say anything."

"Yes I did. You just weren't listening."

"Huh?"

Kaoru said, "That's right. Yuki tried to tell you she didn't know anything about the Hiten Mitsurugi style except what she's learned from Kenshin, the same as you, but you and Misao started talking again and didn't pay attention."

Yahiko glared at her, but read the confirmation on Yuki's face. "Oh. Sorry, Yuki-san."

Misao, who had been given a lot to think about lately, suggested they go to bed. "Kenshin and Master Hiko already started working, so maybe Kenshin will be back tomorrow."

Kaoru said, "I doubt that. I think that with a style as complicated as the Hiten Mitsurugi, it will take longer than one night for even Kenshin to learn the final technique."

Her soft little Kenshin-worshipping voice was seriously getting on Yuki's nerves. Normally she could ignore it, but not after having been grated by Master Hiko. "I'm going to take a bath first," she said, praying that Kaoru wouldn't offer to join her. Partly to stave off the chance, she wished the other three a somewhat abrupt good night and headed for her room, where she put away her sword and grabbed a few supplies before heading for the back of the inn.

The quickest way to the guest baths was through the kitchen. Looking forward to something, anything, to help ease her tension, Yuki was halfway across the kitchen before she realized, first, that someone was there cooking, and second, the someone was not the Aoiya's cook, but Madame Kimiyama.

She stopped and stared. Had she been in a better mood, she might even have found the picture amusing, because Madame Kimiyama had tied a huge, plain canvas apron over a beautifully embroidered kimono and an elaborate obi, and the effect was silly as hell. She would have slipped back out – in her present mood she didn't want to talk to anyone, much less someone with a fondness for that bastard Hiko – but some sound alerted Madame Kimiyama, and she turned bright, smiling eyes at her. "Hello, Yukiyo-san!"

"Madame Kimiyama," she acknowledged with a bow, ready to back out again.

She wasn't to escape so easily. Madame Kimiyama said conversationally, "I suppose you're wondering why I'm here. I'm cooking. I never get to do this at home. My own cook won't allow me in the kitchen. So this is a treat for me. I actually make a very good fish stew."

"I'm sure." She didn't ask the obvious question, but Madame Kimiyama filled that gap.

"I suppose you're wondering, too, what I'm doing here at the Aoiya at all." She dipped one elegant finger into the pot, then licked it, adding to Yuki's feeling of weirdness. "Not quite ready," she observed, and turned her attention back to Yuki. "Although you probably know why I'm here, don't you?"

Yuki shifted her stance. "I can guess. But why don't you tell me anyway?"

"I'm here because here is where I can get news about Kenshin, surely and quickly. Seijuro took him back as an apprentice, didn't he?"

"Yes."

The shortness of her answer wasn't lost on Madame Kimiyama. "But he didn't make it easy, did he?"

"No."

"Would you like some tea?"

"No. Thank you. I was just going to take a bath and go to bed."

The lady sighed. "Seijuro must have been more than normally obnoxious, to make you so rude."

Yuki resisted the urge to agree with the first part of that. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."

"Yes, you did. You know I want to talk about what happened, but you don't want to discuss it. I don't blame you, but I wish you would. I have no other way of finding out what is happening."

"You could ask Misao, or Kaoru, or even Yahiko."

"But they don't really know, do they?" Madame Kimiyama asked shrewdly.

"They were there."

"But not so wise as you are. And you went up there earlier than they did. Please. One cup of tea. Then I promise you, I'll let you have that bath."

Yuki normally would have said no, but for a brief second, when the other woman had said the word "please", Yuki saw an expression flicker in her eyes, one of a startlingly deep sadness. It was gone in an instant, replaced by the pleasant smile, but Yuki could neither forget it nor deny it. Whatever caused that sorrow, it compelled her to at least give in on this small thing. "One cup," she agreed.

She was almost immediately sorry. She sat and let Madame Kimiyama serve and pour, and watching her, she was taken vividly back to her okiya days. She easily recognized the lady's purpose. Part of the tea ceremony, even that small part of it which Madame Kimiyama had just employed, was to relax the other person and make them feel comfortable. Perhaps it was just habit that made the lady do it, but the result was the opposite of what was intended. Instead of relaxing, Yuki was reminded she was in the presence of someone she couldn't really trust, no matter what Kenshin believed. She focused on the flavor of the tea and calmed her mind. She needed her wits about her, and regretted the moment of pity that had stuck her here. "I really don't know what to tell you, Madame Kimiyama."

"I wish you would call me Hikaru. I've been a widow for almost ten years, and I no longer feel like Madame anything. You can tell me what you thought of Seijuro, for one thing," she smiled.

"I'd rather not. I know you like him."

"No. I love him, which is different."

Yuki took another deep drink of tea, trying to comprehend this. She'd suspected it before going up the mountain, but now that she'd met Hiko, she didn't see how anyone could love him, much less a refined lady like this one.

Correctly reading her expression, Madame Kimiyama laughed. "I know. After meeting Seijuro in a bad mood, it is difficult to believe he can be lovable. We have loved each other for almost 30 years, but despite that, there are many days when I don't like him at all. He tends to have that effect on people. And," with another smile, "my love for him has never been blind. So why don't you tell me what you really think?"

Well, she'd asked for it, and Yuki was tired of biting her tongue. "What I really think is that he's the rudest, most conceited, most arrogant _bastard_ I've ever met."

"Oh dear."

"I don't mean to offend you…" she began, although now that the cork was out of the bottle of her temper, she actually didn't give a damn.

But Madame Kimiyama waved a casual hand. "Don't concern yourself about that."

"Then I'll tell you, he acted as if he's so superior to any of us, even to Kenshin, that it's only because he's gracious that he allowed us to so much as dirty his floor. He treated Kenshin as if Kenshin was still a little kid, and he kept calling him stupid. _Stupid!_ Kenshin! Even after we told him what Kenshin has done, how far he's come, what he's accomplished. Not that it mattered what we said. I think Kenshin could have come to him with the Buddha on one hand and a score of angels on the other, all singing his praises, and Hiko would still have looked down his nose at him just like he did, and called him a stupid apprentice for filling his house with more guests."

She expected Madame Kimiyama to be offended for sure this time, if by nothing else than by the venom of her tone, but instead, the lady broke into laughter. "Yes, he probably would have said that! Oh, I could just strangle him sometimes."

"I wanted to kill him."

"A _lot_ of people have felt that way."

"You must be very tolerant, to love that man."

"It's ridiculous, I know, but I've gotten into the habit of it."

"And I'm sure he doesn't treat you like he does everyone else."

"But he does. He often calls me stupid. However, you're right in that there is another side of him that only I see. I could try to explain it, but I doubt you'd be interested." By the smile in her eyes, she knew exactly how uninterested Yuki really was. "Beside, you only offered to stay for one cup, and that's half gone. Tell me what happened up there."

"I did. He was a rude and arrogant ass, but he did take Kenshin back and promised to teach him the succession technique."

"I mean tell me in detail. Tell me what was said. It's important to me. _Kenshin_ is important to me. I don't expect that to mean anything to you, but I hope it does."

"I really don't want to have to go through it again."

"Please."

And there it was again, that flicker of deep sadness in her eyes, quickly hidden. Yuki was familiar with how a person could put on a face for the rest of the world to see, and hide behind it, and she knew that was what this woman was doing now. The face of the calm hostess was hiding a desperate woman. "Why is this so important to you? Kenshin said you were like a mother to him. Do you still think of him as a son?"

Madame Kimiyama nodded. "I always will, although I can see he's grown far past that. I tried to adopt him, even, when my husband was still alive."

"Kenshin didn't tell me that."

"Kenshin doesn't know. He was just a child, it would have been cruel to tell him. But the only two people I love in this world are up on that mountain together now, and I know much about what happened before, but nothing about what is happening now. Which is why I will take advantage of your courtesy and beg you to tell me." The smile returned. "I know exactly how rude and arrogant Seijuro can be, so you don't need to be afraid for my feelings."

"I wouldn't anyway. You asked. I'd either answer, or not, but if I answered, it would be with the truth."

"I suspected as much. Will you?"

The question Yuki asked herself was, would Kenshin want this woman told? She closed her eyes, picturing him when they'd spoken in the park. Madame Kimiyama was asking for information, not help, yet it felt like the latter. And yes, Kenshin would expect her to help the lady. She opened her eyes. "I'd better refill this cup," she muttered, and poured for both of them. Even as she touched the pot, she realized that her ceremonial manner, learned at the okiya and practiced with her aunt, would give her past away just as surely as Madame Kimiyama's had. But she only knew one other way to pour, a man's way, the one she'd used in the army. She chose the latter, and saw curiosity flicker across Madame Kimiyama's brow. But no comment was made. The lady accepted her cup and waited for the story she wanted to hear.

Yuki began at the beginning, with Hiko's first words. When she reached the part where Hiko had made Kenshin beg him, then turned him down with insults, Madame Kimiyama covered her eyes with one hand and groaned, "Oh, that man can hold a grudge!"

"A grudge?"

"For Kenshin leaving him. A very long story. Please go on."

Now the lady wasn't trusting _her_. But, deep into the memory, Yuki was far too angry with Hiko to give a damn about his motives. She told the lady about The Great Man's holier-than-thou lectures, and, on being asked, about how Kenshin had replied to them. About a third of the way through, she suddenly observed, "You look pleased."

"I am. Oh, not at Seijuro. He's behaving just as I expected. I'm pleased with Kenshin. I know nothing about swordsmanship, so I have no idea if Kenshin has achieved his potential there, as Seijuro wished. But I saw many qualities in him as a boy that I hoped would develop as he became a man, and it seems at least some of them have. Seeing him yesterday, I hoped... well, never mind. Most of my hopes have already been answered. Please go on. If what followed was more of the same, just tell me of any significant things."

"There really weren't any until Misao, Yahiko and Kaoru came. They heard Hiko insulting Kenshin and kicked in the door to defend him."

Hikaru burst into laughter. "I'm sure Seijuro loved that. What did he say?"

"He grouched about having visitors."

"Coolly, I'm sure. But I'm also sure he took advantage of the situation somehow."

"He did. He sent Kenshin to the river for water. As if Kenshin were a servant or slave," she added, her anger rising again. "Is that the way Hiko treats his apprentices?"

"He's only had the one. And yes, I'm afraid so. Why did he want Kenshin to leave?"

"He wanted to question us about what Kenshin had been doing during the ten years he'd been missing."

"Of course. He picked your brains. He's good at that."

"He's very good," she said. "He insulted Kenshin to our faces to get them angry so they'd talk more freely."

"What did they tell him? Yukiyo-san..." The mask had slipped again, and it was the real woman who lifted haunted eyes to Yuki's. "Understand, I know very little about what happened to Kenshin during the Revolution. That was my fault. I didn't want to know. But afterward, when he disappeared, I tried desperately to find him, and couldn't. I thought he was dead. I prayed he hadn't gone on as he had been. But I knew nothing. Yesterday, he avoided the question. He only said that he was wandering. What _did _he do? What happened to him?"

"He threw away his sword and got the reverse-blade sword he carries now. Then he took a vow never to take a life again, and became a wanderer, trying to repent for all the lives he had already taken."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Hikaru was staring down at her hands twisted together in her lap. "He kept that vow, didn't he?"

"Yes. He's fought many battles since then, but has never taken a life."

"I could see that in his eyes." She bit her lower lip, then collected herself and looked up, calm again. "He's been in Tokyo for some time. Does he feel he's completed his penance and can stop wandering?"

"No."

Had Hikaru asked for anything more, Yuki would have told her to ask Kenshin. But she didn't. Instead, she observed dispassionately, "I see why he feels so compelled to stop Makoto Shishio, then. Even as a child, he took up every burden onto his own back. So – Seijuro learned this. Undoubtedly that was what he wished to hear. But I notice you say _they_ told him. Not you?"

"Not me." Yuki would never have allowed that bastard the satisfaction of seeing he'd gotten anything from her, even anger. "I told him what I thought he needed to know, privately, and that's all."

"Which I assume he accepted without comment and without thanks."

"You know him." She was glad Hikaru didn't press any further. She'd only told Hiko about Tomoe because it might affect Kenshin's training and was something that a sensei, no matter how obnoxious, had a need to know. But she'd tell no one else, not even someone who considered herself Kenshin's mother.

But Hikaru now looked weary, and she didn't ask. Instead, she asked about what Hiko had said when he'd taken Kenshin back as an apprentice. Yuki told her, and told her how he'd then thrown the rest of them off the mountain. "He was going to start the training right away, in the dark."

"He's worried about Shishio."

"Then why doesn't he go after Shishio himself?" Yuki demanded.

"It's not that kind of worry. Seijuro considers all forms of government either wicked or corrupt, or both. He sees no real difference between the current Meiji government and that which Shishio would establish. To him, they are all bad, and he fights his battles on another level. He is worried about Shishio for Kenshin's sake, because Shishio is apparently after Kenshin personally. He wants Kenshin to be able to defend himself and those he cares about."

"Will he fight alongside Kenshin?"

"I doubt it. I believe he'll see this as Kenshin's battle, and he won't interfere. I will _never_ understand this warrior philosophy!" she burst out suddenly. "It makes no sense. Kenshin will understand, I'm sure, but if he is killed for the want of one more sword, I will never forgive Seijuro. But no," she added, calming. "Seijuro will not send Kenshin to face Shishio unless he is absolutely sure Kenshin can defeat him. He and Kenshin both believe the final attack of the Hiten Mitsurugi will assure that. I hope they are right."

"What if Kenshin doesn't master the final attack?"

"Seijuro always believed he would, even when Kenshin was just a child. He wouldn't have taken Kenshin back, no matter what any of you said, if he didn't believe it still. What do you think?"

"What I think isn't relevant."

"True. I only asked because I wanted to know," Hikaru said gently.

"I think Kenshin can do anything he sets his mind to do."

"So do I. Well, you've finished three cups of tea, and I know you want your bath. We'll be here together for a while, since I'm going to be the Aoiya's guest until Kenshin returns, so I hope nothing I've said or done has given you a dislike of me."

"Why should you care about that? It's a big inn."

Sudden amusement lit Hikaru's eyes. "Because I can see that you're important to Kenshin, of course."

She was giving truth for truth. Far from being offended, Yuki was much more comfortable with that. She rose, saying, "I don't dislike you. I think we can get along for a little while."

She bent to take the tea tray, but Hikaru waved her off. "I can clean up. I've kept you from your bath long enough."

"You look ridiculous in the kitchen."

Hikaru laughed. "I know. That's part of the fun. You should have seen your face when you came in and saw me. I plan to cook breakfast, if for no other reason than to see the reactions of the Oniwaban."

Trust her or not, it was hard not to like her when she laughed like that. Yuki wished her a good night and went to her bath. She had been soaking for some time, trying not to think about what Kenshin might be going through at this moment, when she realized that, sometime during the conversation in the kitchen, the woman had gone from being Madame Kimiyama to being Hikaru, in her mind. She had no idea how that had happened, but one thing was certain. Hikaru Kimiyama was not a woman to underestimate.


	3. Part 3

To everyone kind enough to read and like Reunion, I'm so sorry this chapter has taken so long, and I hope it doesn't disappoint you after the wait. I had a terrible spell of writer's block that I'm just crawling out from under. However, I have no intention of abandoning the story at this point. I have it outlined and even partially written until the end of the Kyoto Arc, and I have every intention of finishing it. Many thanks for your patience and appreciation.

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Hikaru was thinking, too, that Yukiyo Sasaki was not a woman to be underestimated. With so much on her mind, she didn't sleep at all that night, but Yuki occupied every part of her time that wasn't spent in wondering about Kenshin and Seijuro. Talking to her had been so difficult. Yuki was wary and secretive, and very intelligent, and would require the most delicate handling.

What made it difficult was that Hikaru wanted nothing more than to pry the woman open like a gift box and ravage ruthlessly through her thoughts and memories, to learn all at once _everything _she knew about Kenshin.

Alone in the dark, she wept a long time for Kenshin, both with sorrow for what he'd been through, and with joy that he'd somehow conquered it all. He was still the boy she'd loved. She could see the innocent child when he spontaneously smiled, and she could see the shadow that was still behind his eyes. The shadow which had haunted him as a child had been simple fear. Now it was much more complex, mixed with guilt. Hikaru hadn't thought about the Revolution for many years, but now she sat up and hugged herself and cursed the ghosts of the men who had turned Kenshin into an assassin. Seijuro had given Kenshin the skill, but he'd never intended it for that, so she stopped short of cursing him. He would be paying for his own sins now, anyway. He was far too intelligent not to see what she herself had seen.

She felt she had a kindred spirit in Yukiyo Sasaki, but she couldn't be sure. Yuki had barriers that not only kept her out, but pushed her away. She would have to get past those barriers to understand her, and she felt she had to. Kenshin obviously loved his "family" at the Kamiya Dojo, but it was Yuki whom he'd brought with him to the pottery shop and to her home. In everything Yuki said about Kenshin was the hint of a knowledge which went deeper than what Kaoru and the others possessed. Hikaru guessed that Yuki loved Kenshin and he loved her, but whether either of them knew it, or were still only friends, Hikaru couldn't tell yet. There were too many questions, and the only way to get answers was to cultivate the friendship of a young woman determined to keep her at arm's length.

But nothing could spoil her optimism. Kenshin was alive. He was back. He was healthy in mind and body. Nothing else mattered.

In the darkest part of the night, she was to discover something else about Yuki Sasaki, something that would give her even more questions. Still wakeful, she sat up, curious, at the sound of Okina's voice. When that was suddenly replaced with shouts and the sound of a fight, she leaped up and ran to her door. Yuki was racing down the hall. She checked on seeing Hikaru's open door."You'd better stay there!" she suggested, and ran on.

Hikaru obeyed, backing into her room and shutting the door. She was no fighter and would only get in the way. That was not true of Yuki, however. The young woman had been holding a sword. Because she knew of the Oniwaban, the idea of a sword-wielding woman wasn't alien to Hikaru, so she was not shocked. Nor, she realized, was she entirely surprised. But it gave her more questions to ponder while she waited.

Laughter, a little later – Misao's, there was no mistaking it – told her she had nothing to fear from the results of the fight she heard. She resisted the urge to satisfy her curiosity and remained in her room, able to guess what had happened and, again, not wishing to be in the way. The Oniwaban had been gracious enough to allow her to stay when they'd emptied the inn of all other guests, and she would not intrude without need.

She heard the story over the breakfast she cooked and served. The Oniwaban and "Kenshingumi," as they called themselves, were in an excellent mood, having handed Shishio's Owls a resounding defeat and sent them back with a message of defiance. Having Madame Kimiyama feed them only added to the general hilarity. Good food loosened their tongues, and Hikaru heard a lot more than she actually wished to. None of them seemed concerned about what worried Hikaru most, that this attack was simply the first that Shishio would be sending against them, for no other reason than to hurt Kenshin. When she mentioned it, Okina agreed with her, but he was confident that they were more than a match for Shishio's minions. "If we weren't, would we allow you to stay here where you might be in danger?" was his response. The only others who seemed to share Hikaru's apprehension were Kaoru and Yuki, but neither of them said anything.

She spent some time helping them clean the inn that morning, creating more laughter when she pointed out, with mock indignation, that servants didn't do _everything_ for her and she did know how to clean. One of her self-appointed tasks was to gather and carry out the breakage from the fight the night before. With a basket of shards in her arms, she went out the back, to find that the job for someone stronger – carrying out and beating the tatami – had been given to Yuki. But Yuki had ceased in her work at some point, and when Hikaru came quietly out, she saw the young woman standing there, poised and still, bat in hand as if she'd stopped in mid-swing, with her head lifted and her eyes looking to the north. Toward Seijuro's mountain.

Hikaru took the moment to look at her, really look at her, for the first time. She was small and very pretty, with her catlike eyes and delicately pointed chin, but there was steel in her. Her body was supple, but with the kind of suppleness that came from athletic work, such as the dance or martial arts. She would have made a good geisha, Hikaru reflected, had the physical self been all that was needed. But her entire character mocked that. Her strength and directness were the exact opposites of what a geisha was, and her mind was quick and deep, but not subtle. She reminded Hikaru of a knife blade – harmless if it lies untouched, but sharp and dangerous to a clumsy hand. Or to an enemy, she mused, recalling the brisk efficiency with which Yuki had carried a sword down the hall.

Yuki turned her head to look over her shoulder at Hikaru. "Why are you standing there staring at me?"

Several polite answers came to Hikaru's mind at once, but this woman seemed to want nothing but honesty, and Hikaru's instinct was that would be the best way to go. "I didn't mean to intrude. I've just never truly looked at you before. He'll be all right, you know."

"I wish I did know."

"Seijuro would never really hurt him. He'll make him work very hard, but that's all."

"Call it a premonition." She swung the bat viciously, bringing out a cloud of dust from the nearest tatami. "I want to go up there and see what's going on."

"You can't. Seijuro would know you were there before you got within sight of the training ground."

"I assumed that. But I'd go anyway. I don't care what that bastard would have to say to me. The only reason I don't is that I'm afraid he'll take it out on Kenshin."

"He might," Hikaru agreed, getting a surprised look from Yuki for admitting it. "But whether he does or not, you'd still be interfering with the training, and it will take longer. I think last night's attack proves that Kenshin is right, and we have little time left. He needs to focus on the training without distractions. Even from you."

"I know." The bat swung again. "I just don't trust Master Hiko."

_I don't think you trust many people,_ Hikaru thought. "If you're going to think about it, I suppose that being out here, beating tatami, is the best place for you."

Yuki looked at her, brows lifting. Then, to Hikaru's surprise, she grinned and agreed.

~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~

Yuki was aware that Hikaru was studying her, and she was fairly sure she understood why. Even so, being constantly observed might have made her uneasy, if her mind hadn't been so focused on that faraway mountain and what was happening there. Kenshin was in danger, she was sure of it, and Hikaru was a minor irritation compared to that.

Then the evening brought events which chased away all other concerns and brought home in a gruesome way the possible consequences of the battle they faced. Misao burst into the Aoiya in a state of barely controlled panic. She'd been too late to stop the fight between Aoshi and Okina, and Okina was badly wounded, maybe even dying.

Yuki ran with the Oniwaban to bring Okina back while Omasu went for a doctor. Of them all, Yuki had the most experience with wounds from a battle, and she knew what had to be treated immediately and what could wait. She was glad she went. When they saw Okina, for a moment Shiro, Kuro and Okon were paralyzed with shock. Yuki, who had experienced many such scenes, ignored the gore and the smells and bent over the body of the old man. Some rudimentary bandaging had already been done using Okina's own shirt. "Give me your obi," she told Misao as the girl knelt on the opposite side of Okina. "Who did this? You?" Misao nodded, huge-eyed. "You did a good job," Yuki assured her as she pulled off her own obi. "You might even have saved his life." To the others, she called out, "Make a litter, quickly."

To their credit, bossed by Misao, the other three made up a sturdy bamboo litter in moments. In the meantime, Yuki bound up what was needed, including replacing one of Misao's bandages with a tourniquet on one of the old man's arms, where a large vein was cut. As they headed back to the Aoiya, she showed Misao how to loosen the tourniquet, while applying pressure to the cut, and then to tighten it again properly, keeping circulation in the arm without allowing further dangerous blood loss. Her old training had kicked in – it was Okina's right arm, and during the Revolution the loss of a sword arm had been nearly as bad as death to a fighter. Worse, for some.

When they burst into the Aoiya, Osamu and the doctor were already there. Hikaru was also there, and she took one look at the blood-soaked mess that was Okina and went white as milk. _If she faints, dammit,_ Yuki thought as she made way for the doctor, _she can just lay on the floor. We don't have time for that now._

But she didn't. In a small voice, she said, "I have water boiling. I'll go get it now."

Yuki said, "Kuro, why don't you go help her?" There was no sense in having her come back in here. As they headed for the kitchen, she asked Okon, "Can the lady be put to work cutting and rolling bandages?"

The doctor lifted his head. "Yes, we will need a lot of them."

Putting Okina back together took more than 130 stitches, and watching the doctor work, Yuki was amazed the old man still lived. The Oniwaban were tougher than they seemed. Even so, she wasn't sure he would survive the night. If he did that, the doctor told them wearily as he prepared to leave, then with proper nursing, he might make a full recovery. The night would tell.

Yuki and the Oniwaban would take turns watching, all but Misao, who refused to leave her grandfather at all. With a soldier's practicality, although concerned about Okina, Yuki went straight to sleep, getting what rest she could in the six hours before her own shift. Gently and apologetically wakened by Osamu in the darkest part of the night, she came instantly alert and went down by the light of a single candle, expecting the worst and hoping for better. As she slid into the room, silent on bare feet, Misao looked up at her and attempted a smile. "I think he's improved, Yuki-san."

Yuki bent, trying to see by candlelight, then checked Okina's pulse. "I think he _is_ better. Certainly not worse."

Misao sighed, a sound of relief. "I couldn't be sure."

"That's because you've been sitting here the whole time, and the changes were gradual." She sat opposite Misao and noticed a small table set with covered dishes. Lifting the lid of one, she saw rice balls. Another held dumplings. The smell was divine, and she served herself at once, wishing for tea. "Did you have some of this?" she asked the girl.

Misao shook her head. "I couldn't eat."

"Don't be silly. What good will it do your grandfather if you starve at his side?" She handed Misao a bowl and chopsticks, and Misao nibbled fitfully at a few grains of rice. As the taste penetrated, although she never took her eyes off Okina, she began to eat faster until she was shoveling it in, and Yuki hid a smile.

The door opened again, to admit the fragrance of fresh tea and Hikaru, carrying a tray. She saw Misao eating and gave Yuki a quick, smiling glance of approval. Kneeling, she poured for both Misao and Yuki, using a much simpler serving style than her usual. Handing Yuki a cup, she said, "I'm sorry, I know I'm not much use in a crisis, but I'll do what I can."

"Did you cook this?"

"Yes. I doubt we'll get a regular meal for a while, and I didn't see how anyone was going to keep up their strength without some kind of food ready at all times."

"Then don't say you aren't much use in a crisis," Yuki said.

Hikaru gave her a faint, grateful smile, bowed, and left them.

Misao sighed, setting aside her empty bowl. "Everything is so weird. You and Madame Kimiyama were guests here, and now you're being a nurse and she is cooking and cleaning. I thought Gramps would be leading us in defending the Aoiya against an attack by Shishio, and instead he's almost dead and we have no one to lead us."

"Don't think this wasn't an attack by Shishio. It was, no matter how indirect."

Misao's fists clenched in her lap. "I don't care what anyone says, Lord Aoshi can't be working for Shishio. He can't, he wouldn't."

Yuki shrugged. "Maybe not. I don't know him. But whether he is or not, he's doing Shishio's will. This is exactly the kind of thing Kenshin feared." She found nothing unexpected in the situation at all. She had known from the moment she'd taken up her sword and followed Kenshin from Tokyo that she might be facing something like this.

Misao nodded miserably. "Himura was right. Yuki-san, how did you know what to do? Are you a doctor, too?"

"No. But anyone who lived through the Revolution knows something about wounds," she said, dodging the issue. Misao, being young and distraught, accepted her reply without question.

By the time the sun had cleared the Kyoto rooftops, Yuki had risen from her second sleep, taken after she was relieved on watch by Kuro. In the kitchen, Hikaru was nowhere in sight, but her presence was felt – there was hot water on the fire and the makings for tea, alongside a row of dishes that held a plain but substantial breakfast. Snagging her share gratefully, Yuki went to check on Okina's progress. Apparently he was better, because the crowd gathered before his door was excited and shouting. Misao, it seemed, had decided to ignore Okina's instructions and had taken over leadership of the Oniwaban.

Yuki thought that was a large job for such a young girl, but a single glance showed her that Misao was fiercely determined. It just might work. Not wishing to intrude on what was an important time for the Oniwaban, she retreated back to the kitchen. They wouldn't be carrying on like that if Okina had died or become worse. She was free to turn her thoughts to the upcoming fighting, and, again, to what truly concerned her most, what Hiko was doing to Kenshin up on that mountain.

Hikaru came into the kitchen while Yuki was still brooding over her tea. Even under these conditions, wearing a splashed and stained yukata borrowed from someone larger, her hair tied back in a braid as casual as Yuki's own, Hikaru managed to look elegant. But she also looked exhausted. She sighed when she sat, and she poured her tea without any ceremony at all. "Have you heard about Misao?"

"That she's declared herself commander of the Oniwaban? Yes. But I haven't seen Okina this morning. I'm assuming he's all right, however. Even Misao wouldn't be so disrespectful of the dead."

"He's holding his own. The doctor was here at sun-up and declared himself satisfied. From now on it's up to us. Which reminds me..." She set aside her tea and rose to shift a stew pot onto the larger stove. There were three buckets lined up near the door, and she saw those and said, "Good, Shiro brought more water." Then she picked one up and, with some difficulty, began to pour it into the pot.

Yuki jumped up and took it from her. "Let me do that. I'm stronger."

"Thank you!"

"What's all this for?"

"Okina, of course. He'll need to be kept very clean, and _not_ with cold water. The Oniwaban have a vast knowledge of many things, but not much about nursing."

Yuki finished filling the pot and returned to her tea. "You're doing a lot for people who are almost strangers to you."

Hikaru moved one shoulder in a gentle shrug. "Being a decent human being, I'd either have to help, or leave. I prefer to help. When Kenshin returns, I want to know, and to know, I must stay. This is my payment for my selfishness," she smiled.

"You do realize that staying here puts you in danger, don't you? Shishio's next attack will probably be directly against this place, and with more than just a few Owls."

"I've thought about that. But Shishio will want to use that attack to weaken Kenshin, I assume, and attacking here while Kenshin is still missing wouldn't suit his purpose at all. So until Kenshin returns from Seijuro's hands, we should be safe enough here."

"You sound as if you know Shishio."

"I never met him socially," Hikaru said on a burble of laughter. "But I have a servant, an old soldier with a lot of friends in the city – Bunto, you met him at my home. He tells me things. And I know something about overwhelming egos, which Makoto Shishio does possess."

"Did you learn about that from Master Hiko?" Yuki wondered with mock innocence.

The laughter bubbled out again. "He's just one. I've met many men like that. With Shishio, though, it's personal. That, I don't understand."

Yuki shrugged. "He's just one of a long line of swordsmen who want to make their reputations by carving them out of Kenshin's hide."

"You said that before, but I think I am just now beginning to comprehend what you mean. Do you know," Hikaru said, suddenly pettish, "I've spent much more time with men than with women, but what most of them consider important rarely makes sense to me. Particularly warriors. I know what they desire, but it makes no sense! From what they tell me, _this_," waving a hand toward the front of the inn, "this atrocity with Aoshi and Okina, stems from the same issue. Aoshi wants to defeat Kenshin. With all that he has waiting for him here, what a _stupid_ ambition that is." She sighed. "Almost 30 years of loving Seijuro, and I still don't comprehend how being the best killer can make a man happy."

"It doesn't, of course."

"But they think it will, don't they? And they work toward it with such ruthlessness. Not Seijuro, but that's partly because he believes he's already the best and doesn't feel he has to bother proving it. When he was younger, though..." She shook her head. "Like Aoshi, so many of them pursue that ridiculous goal and sacrifice too much else in life."

She wondered if Hikaru had been one of Hiko's sacrifices. "Kenshin doesn't."

Hikaru's expression lightened and softened. "But I think we can agree, Kenshin is exceptional. What an irony, that he has the fame, the reputation for being the best, he who doesn't seek or desire it. I'm sorry," she said, stirring her tea although it didn't need it. "I'm not usually so talkative. I'm just tired and worried."

"I don't mind. I like hearing your opinions. Especially since they agree with mine."

"Yet you use a sword."

"I carry it for self-defense."

"A fan is a more common means of self-defense for a woman than a sword. No, don't worry, I won't pry. To tell you the truth, right now I'm not sure I want to know," she added with a self-deprecating smile.

_Hiding her face behind her fan_, Kenshin had called it. He did know this woman well. At least she was honest with herself. Yuki said, "I'm sorry, but I could not tell you even if you were to ask me."

Hikaru didn't fuss or look hurt, she simply nodded, accepted, and tactfully changed the subject. "Will you be as glad as I am when all this is finished?"

"Probably more." She'd only recently found Kenshin again. The dream of a peaceful future with him in Tokyo was what kept her going now.

Hikaru glanced back over her shoulder, in the direction where Okina lay. "I do wish Kenshin didn't have to hear of this, what has happened to Okina, but I don't see how it can be avoided. And when he does, he'll blame himself. Won't he?"

"Yes. He did try to leave, to dissociate himself from them so they'd be safe, but they wouldn't hear of it."

The soft smile came back. "You. His friends from Tokyo. Now the Oniwaban. He has a knack for inspiring loyalty."

"It's not a 'knack'. He's a good man who cares for others. That brings out the best in good people."

"I've known many good men in my lifetime, but none who could draw people to him as naturally and easily as Kenshin does. Even as a child he had that quality. It's a kind of magic that even worked on Seijuro."

"That's hard to imagine." Impossible, really, to think that even Kenshin could break through that man's self-centered shell.

"But true. I feel a little guilty, with Okina being so injured, but my thoughts keep going back to the same place. Yours, too, I know."

"A lot depends on what happens up there."

"Seijuro won't fail him."

Yuki said something in polite agreement, but privately she wasn't so sure.

Hikaru replied to her tone rather than her words. "He won't. I've known Seijuro since he was little more than a boy, and I've never known him not to accomplish what he says he will. If Kenshin _can_ learn this final technique, whatever that is, then Seijuro will teach it to him. And when I knew Kenshin, he could do anything he put his mind to."

"He still can."

"Then we can assume he'll learn it, and we only have to worry..." Her hands and face stilled for a moment, but her voice went on calmly, "...whether or not they are right and that it will give him what he needs to defeat Shishio."

"I'm not as sure of Master Hiko as you are, Hikaru-san. I can't explain it, but I have a bad feeling about what's going on up there. If I thought I could get away with it, I'd be up there now, watching. Just to be sure."

Hikaru frowned delicately. "Despite how he acts and talks, Seijuro loves Kenshin. He would never do anything to harm him." This was said with simple conviction, not as an effort to convince Yuki of anything, but as what the lady believed to be true. "I feel apprehensive, too, but not about Seijuro. I worry more about what will happen when Kenshin leaves Seijuro's hands. I am hoping Seijuro will come with him, and help him. He tells me he's the greatest swordsman in Japan, and he's often said that Kenshin would be even better than him, once his training was complete. If the two of them fought together, I don't think Shishio would stand a chance."

For a moment Yuki allowed herself the luxury of that thought. Hikaru was right. Kenshin and his Master together would be an inconceivable force. But she didn't think on it long. Hiko wouldn't bestir himself, she was sure. Still, this lady might have some influence over him. "Is there any way that you can talk him into helping Kenshin?" she asked.

But she asked without real hope, and was therefore not disappointed when Hikaru shook her head. "None at all. He might help Kenshin, or not. But it will be entirely his decision, based on some male, warrior code of honor that I can't begin to understand. This isn't an area where I can influence him. I wish I could!"

Yuki had fought with other warriors, but she didn't think she'd be able to understand it, either. Not when Kenshin was involved. Not when one sword might make the difference between victory and defeat, death or life. Especially a sword as mighty as Hiko's was supposed to be. "Maybe he isn't as good as he claims," she muttered.

Hikaru's fierceness faded, and she chuckled. "Oh, he is. Seijuro has no humility, but neither does he brag. He is what he says he is. And he knows exactly what's at stake. As I said before, he won't send Kenshin back to us until he is sure that Kenshin can defeat Shishio."

"And Kenshin's life – and all of our futures – depend on his judgement."

"His judgement is very good. But we also depend on Kenshin, and I have faith in Kenshin."

"As do I." She had more faith in Kenshin than in a dozen Hikos and every other person in Kyoto all piled together.

Hikaru refilled their cups, her gestures setting Yuki's already stretched nerves on edge. But she was beginning to know the woman now, and seeing past the geisha grace, she recognized that Hikaru was using the little interval of ritual to regroup her thoughts. So she wasn't surprised, when her cup was in her hands, to be asked if she would answer a question. "You'll think it personal and impertinent, I'm afraid," Hikaru added.

"If the question is too personal, I reserve the right not to answer."

"Naturally. And I will accept that."

"Then go ahead and ask it."

The pretty hands folded in her lap. "It is obvious that your affection for Kenshin is very strong. But do you love him? I don't mean as a friend, but..." Something in Yuki's expression made her smile. "You do love him."

"More than my life and everything in it."

"Oh." The expressions which crossed the other woman's face were too swift and complex for Yuki to follow, but her tone was happy when she said, "That _is_ good. Does he love you?"

"Yes, he does."

"Do you plan to marry?"

"That's three questions."

"I can count!" Hikaru said, and for no reason at all, both of them laughed. "There's no limit to my impertinence, but..."

"But you care about Kenshin." That excused a lot. "That question doesn't have a simple answer, however. We were separated for a long time and only recently found each other again. And then there's the problem of the ghost of the Battousai."

Hikaru's expression, for once unguarded, abruptly filled with grief. "Does that touch you, too?"

"Everything about Kenshin touches me."

After a moment of silence, Hikaru said, "I've spent a lot of time praying that Kenshin was alive and happy. Now I think I shall have to pray for his past to remain where it belongs and stop poisoning his present."

"That's hopeless. Pray that he'll learn to accept the help of his friends in bearing it."

"You're right. That sounds much more practical. In some ways he's changed beyond my recognition, but in some he's still the same boy I knew. Seijuro said to me once that, when Kenshin left him, he was about to take the entire burden of the Revolutionary cause onto his own shoulders. He is still carrying it all alone, isn't he?"

"He's trying to," Yuki said grimly. "But he won't if I can help it."

Another silence fell, a longer one, and Yuki wondered what Hikaru was going to come up with this time. However, before she could speak again, the door opened and Kaoru entered, looking cheerful. "Hello. Am I intruding?"

If so, she was a welcome intrusion. Yuki smiled at her and gestured toward the teacups. "No, not at all. Join us."

Kaoru sat and let Hikaru pour tea. "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?" Hikaru asked. Yuki noticed that her entire bearing had changed – she had straightened, and seemed to put aside her weariness and to put on, instead, a face of maternal courtesy.

"About Misao and the Oniwaban. And Okina," Kaoru said eagerly.

Hikaru answered. "Yes, we did. It's very good news. That is, assuming Misao can actually _be_ their leader. I don't know the customs of the Oniwaban. And she is very young."

"I wondered about that, myself, but she's more mature than her years." Kaoru didn't observe the way Hikaru's eyelids lowered over a flicker of amusement. Kaoru was not much older than Misao, after all, however much running her own dojo had matured her.

"She'll have to be," Yuki said. "This is just the beginning, a mere feint by Shishio."

Kaoru nodded, her eyes wide and troubled. "And if this is just a feint, it frightens me to think of what is the worst he can do. Madame Kimiyama, should you be here? This could get very dangerous."

"It's sweet of you to be concerned, but I'm sure that I'm well protected. And you needn't fear that I will do something foolish and get in your way."

"I didn't think that!" Kaoru lied gamely.

"I won't leave until I see Kenshin again."

"That may be some time, maybe even days. Yahiko's gone up the road to watch for him, thinking it might be today, but I don't see how even Kenshin can learn the final technique of something like the Hiten Mitsurugi that quickly."

She sounded sensible, as usual, but when she said Kenshin's name, Yuki felt the flicker of Hikaru's gaze on her. She kept her face neutral. She knew why Hikaru had glanced at her. Kaoru believed no one guessed how much she worshiped Kenshin, but even in a serious conversation such as this one, she breathed the name like a prayer. Even Sanosuke, not known for his perspicacity, knew it and teased her about it.

"What do you think the Hiten Mitsurugi final attack is, exactly?" Hikaru asked Kaoru, delicately changing the subject without seeming to.

"I have no idea. Kenshin's style is so different from the Kamiya style, I couldn't even begin to guess. But it must be incredible."

"Why?" Hikaru asked before Yuki could stop her.

"Kenshin is the greatest swordsman in Japan, except for Master Hiko himself. If there is something he still must be taught, that something must be beyond what we can imagine."

"Do I hear respect in your voice for Master Hiko?"

Kaoru had no idea of the relationship between Hikaru and Hiko, and answered without seeing the gleam of mischief in Hikaru's eyes. "Yes, of course! I'm sure he is a great man, and a great master."

"Yet I understand he was rude to you."

"Not to me. To the others, yes," with a quick apologetic glance at Yuki, "and... and to Kenshin, yes. But he did listen to what we told him about Kenshin's life since the Revolution, fairly. And he did take Kenshin back, although it must be an inconvenience to him."

"Inconvenience?"

"Well, he has a trade now. And he's an old man. Teaching Kenshin at this point in his life can't be easy for him."

Hikaru said straight-faced, "You're probably right. Why don't I freshen the tea?" she added, and rose to go to the stove. Yuki knew she was turning her back on them so as not to laugh out loud at Kaoru's innocence, and that was kind. Yuki herself had no inclination to laugh. Not when the subject was Seijuro Hiko.

When Hikaru brought fresh tea back to the table and knelt to pour, she changed the subject yet again, asking Kaoru to tell her about the Kamiya dojo. Yuki watched with reluctant admiration as Hikaru, with the merest word or expression of interest, drew the younger girl out and, in an indirect way, got her to talk about Kenshin. Kaoru was no fool and let nothing slip that she shouldn't, but by the time Yahiko returned and dragged Kaoru away for a lesson to help kill the time, Hikaru had thoroughly picked her brains.

When Kaoru and Yahiko, amiably squabbling, had gone out into the yard, Hikaru said, "They're as worried about him as we are. And as fiercely loyal."

"Yes."

Hikaru smiled. "She has a schoolgirl's crush on Kenshin, nothing more."

"I know that. She's been a good friend to him."

"Do you dislike her?"

"No! Quite the contrary. We're good friends, and I've acted as a mother to her, at times. Why do you think that?"

"Your face has that quiet expression, like still water. I assumed you were hiding something. I thought perhaps you were worried. I'm sorry if I was wrong."

"If I'm worried, it has little to do with Kaoru and a lot to do with Makoto Shishio." Then, "You don't believe me, do you?"

"I don't think you just lied to me, no. But that you haven't told me the whole truth. May I be blunt?"

"I'd prefer it."

"You don't consider Kaoru a threat to your relationship with Kenshin?"

Yuki shook her head. "At worst, when she finally understands it, she'll be hurt. I don't want that."

"You're very kind. If all goes as I suspect, here in Kyoto, Misao won't be the only young person to mature. Maybe Kaoru will learn to understand the difference between worship and love, and that the emotion of love has many varieties. There can be no value too high to be placed on a loving friend."

Until Kenshin had come into her life, Yuki's experience of the varying kinds of love came almost entirely from observation. Only Kenshin and, to a lesser extent, her aunt, had ever given her any kind of affection, and only seeing other families, other lovers, had given her the knowledge that love could have many manifestations. Now she knew better. She had learned to care for Kaoru as she might a younger sister, and the impromptu family that had formed at the Kamiya dojo – Kaoru, Kenshin, Sano, Yahiko, even Megumi – had taken her in as one of them. Each was different, and the way she liked and even loved each of them was different. _It may hurt her, but she will be able to understand._ She was hit, suddenly, with a painfully deep wish for all of this to be over and Kenshin safe, so she could begin living again. With Kenshin, and with a family. A family whose children would be safe, secure, and most of all loved, as she had never been.


	4. Part 4

This part of Reunion wasn't actually written by me, but by my friend Zora, Yuki's creator. She usually writes in first person, unlike me, but I felt this part should be in her words.

To Quantum: Kenshin's appearances in this story will only be brief, I'm afraid. This is partly because the story is, basically, about the two women (I began it before I ever dreamed I'd end up here on ffnet), but mostly because the events of the Kyoto Arc are well known to everyone who's seen the show, so only those things that happen with Hikaru and Yuki can be written about without duplicating the screenplay. This isn't by my choice ~ after my first tentative attempt, I find I enjoy writing about Kenshin. I will take every opportunity I can to bring him into this, however!

To my other reviewers ~ "thank you" seems so inadequate for all your kind words. I only hope that I continue to entertain you and deserve them.

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**I Do What I Have to Do (Yuki Sasaki)**

"It has been too long. Something's gone wrong," I announced, bringing the flat of my hand down on the brown kotatsu table with a sharp sound.

Everyone in the room jerked out of whatever private reveries they had been lost in and stared at me with varying expressions of confusion and annoyance. Hikaru alone didn't jump, but rather paused her playing momentarily to give me a mildly reproving look. Ever since Sir Okina had been brought home so badly injured by the Oniwaban's previous leader, Aoshi Shinomori, an air of tension had hung over everyone at the Aoiya. We all were just _waiting_. Waiting for news from the mountain, waiting for Okina to regain consciousness, waiting for something to break and doing _nothing_. I, for one, couldn't stand it any longer. "I'm going to go find out what the hell is going on up there."

I saw a few looks exchanged and Hikaru delicately placed her graceful hands against the strings of the shamisen she had been playing – silencing them. Folding those hands in to her lap, she said placidly, "Yukiyo, I do not pretend to know anything about swordsmanship, but if it is anything like other skills, re-training takes time."

Misao nodded in agreement with the older woman, her braid swinging behind her, "Yeah, and Master Hiko said he didn't want us interfering!"

"And I sure wouldn't want to cross that guy!" Yahiko chimed in emphatically, Misao and Kaoru echoing him with, "No way!"s of agreement. 

"Kenshin does not need to be 're-trained'," I said, standing up and brushing out my dark blue kendo pants. "He is already one of the best swordsmen in all of Japan. He only needed to complete his training." _Unless that self-absorbed, arrogant man decided to make an issue out of it and make Kenshin regret leaving fifteen years ago_, I thought darkly as I turned and pulled open the door leading to the hallway and stairs.

Before leaving, I glanced furtively over my shoulder back at the small gathering of my friends. None of them were watching me, rather trying too hard to be interested in something else. At least they were all wise enough to know they wouldn't be able to stop me. 

As I passed by Okina's room, I paused to lean in the open door to find Omasu there, silently watching the old man. "Is he any better?" I whispered.

She shook her head sadly, "No."

I stood in awkward silence for a few moments before asking, "I'm sorry, but may I borrow your cloak? I need to run an… errand and would rather if my katana was not visible to draw attention to me." _Especially considering where this errand might lead me, _I thought wryly.

Omasu gave me a strange look before nodding and telling me where to find the garment in question. I thanked her and bowed my head slightly in respect and appreciation before quickly exiting and climbing the stairs to the guest room that I had been sharing with Kenshin.

Minutes later I was striding swiftly down the crowded streets of Kyoto towards the mountains, my katana carefully concealed beneath the folds of Omasu's Oniwaban cloak. I received no more than a few casual glances in my direction and soon the crowd began to thin out, city giving way to woods. Before long, I found myself on the trail up into the mountains leading to Hiko's little homestead. As I drew closer, I saw smoke curling up above the tree line – the master's kiln. So, the almighty potter was at least at home - but, a thought occurred to me – not training with Kenshin. I felt a cold stab in my stomach at this and quickened my step. 

I came out from beneath the cool canopy of the trees to find Seijuro Hiko's wide back half turned to me. He was holding a kiln paddle with several pieces of pottery on it as if the thing was feather light. Without his arm muscles so much as quivering, he slid the delicate pieces into the kiln before setting the paddle carefully down, turning with a great sweeping of his snow white cape, and glaring at me. "I thought I told you to stay off my mountain, girl." 

I snorted, "It isn't your mountain." My eyes swept the scene - no sign of Kenshin anywhere. The feeling in my stomach grew worse and I swallowed to ease my dry throat. "Where is Kenshin?"

The giant man turned full towards me and my next words died in my throat in a gasp, forgotten. Above the open neckline of the master's blue shirt, a wicked scar of the like I had never seen before was visible. It disappeared underneath his shirt, but I had seen enough of injury to know that it likely ran the length of his broad torso. Unable to keep my expression neutral, I gaped at him before managing to find my voice again. "Master Hiko, what in the hell happened to you to give you a wound like that?!"

He grunted and took a long drink from the sake jug he always carried, "My stupid apprentice happened. The idiot learned the succession technique and then was so selfish as to refuse the title of Seijuro Hiko the 14th." He snorted in contempt.

I twitched at his insults to Kenshin – I had known he had no intention of becoming the reigning master and was always annoyed by Hiko's attitude towards him - but continued to stare at the scar. If the final technique of Hiten Mitsurugi had the kind of power to leave a mark like that, even if the swordsman was using a reverse blade sword, it must truly be a move beyond words. However, since Hiko seemed to be in no way suffering from his injury, I continued pressing the matter at hand, "He is not an idiot and you didn't answer my question. Where _is_ he?" I repeated.

Hiko shrugged and sat down on the bench beside the kiln, "How should I know where that fool has gone? To make a mockery of what he just learned, I suppose."

"You _promised_ me you wouldn't let him go off to fight on his own." I said in a chilly tone through clenched teeth. "When did he go?"

Hiko somehow accomplished the feat of staring down his nose at me while sitting down, "He left this morning after having the nerve to ask me to do _more_ for him. Why are you so worried, girl? He may be an idiot, but now he is a virtually unbeatable one. Just believe in him." He said, completely contradicting his own voiced opinions of Kenshin.

I regarded him with a steely gaze. "My name isn't 'girl', it's Yuki. And I don't worry just for him, I worry for me because I could not bear it if I were to lose him again!" I said, regretting it the moment the words were out of my mouth. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks at the expression on Hiko's face at my words. In an effort to keep what little was left of my dignity, I whirled in a flurry of fabric and walked straight shouldered swiftly away from the homestead. 

"Damn the man!" I swore once I was out of his hearing. How did he always manage to get me in a temper - something few could do - and make me say things I kept so carefully concealed from everyone else? Things I scarcely admitted to myself, like my last outburst. I continued walking and added darkly, "Damn you too, Kenshin Himura." He had done this deliberately, I was sure. He always went to lengths to make sure that his was the only life risked. Some would call it selflessness, I called it martyrdom and it had always been one of the very few sore points between us.

 I knew where my next destination had to be, but I loathed the thought of going there. The Kyoto Prefecture Police Department, into the den of the wolf – to see Hajime Saitoh.

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I came to a stop in front of the large building and took a deep breath, making sure for about the fifth time that my katana was carefully hidden. Of all the places an ex-Ishin member and criminal didn't want to be. There was no help for it, I had to find Kenshin as soon as possible. _Had to._ Desperation was beginning to set in - nothing else in this world would drive me to meet with this man. I pushed the door open and entered the shadowy front room.

The plump officer who blinked at me in surprise from behind the desk looked like had not been up off his rear end since the Revolution ended. Easy to deal with. I strode purposely up to the desk and drew myself up as I had been long ago taught to give the illusion that I was someone of standing, despite the stains on my kendo pants and dust on my feet. 

"I wish to see Inspector H... er, Goro Fujita immediately, please," I said, remembering just in time to use the wretched man's fake name.

The fat chief, for that is what he was, continued to blink stupidly at me for a moment before inclining his head just enough and mumbling, "Inspector Fujita is not here, Miss. Come back later." He turned his chair away from me.

I narrowed my eyes at this blatant dismissal, but kept my calm tone. "Can you tell me where he has gone?"

"Confidential police business, Miss," the chief said in a bored tone from behind his papers.

I did not have time for this. I brought my knuckles down sharply on the desk, making the man jump – something that would have been a funny sight in other circumstances. "Please tell me where Inspector Fujita is, now," I said with more calm than I felt in my coldest tone.

Before the fat man could get over his surprise and answer, a voice behind me drawled, "Weeellll, if it ain't Battousai's protective little woman."

I whirled around to see Chou the sword hunter being escorted in chains by two large cops. In the madness of the days past, I had completely forgotten that this is where the man had been brought after being thoroughly beaten by Kenshin at the old temple. He smirked at me and continued, "I thought you might be a'showing up with yer old mother-hen tendencies."

Ignoring this jibe, I strode up to the captured Juppongatana member and glared up at him. "What do you know, swordhunter?" I demanded without preamble, oblivious to the protests of the guards trying to keep me away from his "very dangerous prisoner."

The tall blonde man regarded me with one eye before shrugging, "You cain't catch them up, Hen. Your precious Battousai, Willow Head, and that stupid Rooster Head left for Osaka to fight Lord Shishio hours ago."

I froze at this information set in, a horrible feeling of déjà vu creeping through my body unwelcomed. The sneering jerk obviously found whatever my expression was to be very funny because he laughed cruelly and crooned, "What's wrong, Hen, cain't go chasing after him this time?"

"Get off it, Broomhead," I said smoothly, recovering myself a bit and cutting off his laughter with an insult similar to the ones he obviously loved. "Where have the – " I was abruptly cut off as the fat chief unexpectedly latched onto my arm and began dragging me backwards away from Chou.

"Miss, I really must insist that you stay away from this dangerous man!"

"Let me go!" I growled in annoyance, fighting violently against his weight advantage. "This man knows the information I came here for."

"No Miss, he is a madman. What he says is nonsense. Come away from him!" He said, jerking me hard enough to bruise my upper arm. 

That did it. Twisting, I wrenched my arm out of his grasp, using one of my more simple martial arts maneuvers. Simple, but effective.

 I heard the man swear behind me as I whirled back to the swordhunter just in time to hear him say, "Sayonara, Hen," as the door slammed behind him and his escorts. In my brief struggle with the chief, the officers had taken advantage of my distraction to get Chou back behind closed doors. I swore colorfully and the chief gaped. I didn't care. My only source of information was gone. I could not follow them. My shoulders slumped as this realization sank in and the feeling of déjà vu turned into panic. 

I felt the chief put his hand back on my shoulder and say in a strange tone, "Miss…"

"Take your hand off me," I muttered in a tone that could have cut glass. The man jerked his hand back as if it had been bitten. I knew it wasn't his fault, he was just doing what he thought was his job, but he had still made me miss my only chance. Ignoring his babbling in response to all my actions, I made quickly for the door to the street. I badly needed air.

Out in front of the building, the panic nearly consumed me. It was so like last time. He had left me to "save me" with no way for me to follow. _Why?_ Why did he always have to be such a damned martyr!? If anything should happen to him…

"Oh, do get a _grip_, Sasaki." I told myself severely, shaking my head firmly and causing several passersby to stare. I took several deep breaths and my reason began to take over. Chou had said Willow Head and Rooster Head. Certainly Willow Head had to be a reference to Saitoh's rather ridiculous spider bangs. And, I hoped beyond hope that Rooster Head might be Sanosuke.

There had been no sign or word of him since we had all arrived in Kyoto well over a week ago. Yahiko had told me how furious he had been about Kenshin's leaving. I had winced at the time – Sano had taken it as a personal insult. Yahiko had also filled me in on his second match with Saitoh and his desire to be stronger.

"The last time I saw him, he was running off into the woods to catch up with you and Kenshin," Yahiko had said. "I hope that idiot didn't get in some trouble with that attitude. I mean, he was taking out _trees,_" he had finished, his dark red eyes wide.

"Me too." I had agreed, "Or gotten himself thoroughly lost. We know our Sano can be a bit of a blunt chopstick!"

The two of us had laughed at the time, but we all had really begun to worry about our hot-tempered friend as the week went on. If he was indeed with Kenshin now, that was some relief.

"And if both Saitoh and Sanosuke are with Kenshin, then he hasn't gone off to be the only sacrifice," I whispered to myself, closing my eyes momentarily in silent thanks. Perhaps, whatever the matter was, it had been too urgent for him to have time to return to the Aoiya. If Chou spoke the truth – he had no reason to lie – and it was indeed something to do with Shishio's horrible plotting, this was surely the case. The police station was much closer to the mountains after all.

Feeling the anger and panic of the afternoon lifting, I squared my shoulders and waded back into the crowded streets to return to the Aoiya with my news, unaware that in just a few hours all hell was going to break loose in the city of Kyoto. 


	5. Part 5

This was one of the very first Hiko/Hikaru stories I wrote, but it's undergone many changes since the first draft, because when I originally wrote it, I had only the vaguest idea of the rest of the tale. It's probably the most emotional scene you'll ever see between these two very controlled people. I hope you enjoy it.

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Hiko rubbed absently at the already-healing scar on his chest, wondering how he had ever managed to re-train Kenshin with all the visitors this place was attracting lately. First Moriko distracting Kenshin, and now Yukiyo, chiding him as if he were supposed to be Kenshin's babysitter instead of his Master. His stupid apprentice sure managed to attract and keep a lot of good friends. They were all as idiotic as he was, but they were certainly loyal to him.

Before loading the kiln, he'd cleaned up the mess Kenshin had made of the cottage, smiling the whole time at how much trouble his apprentice had gone through to find a useless bag of herbs. Kenshin's brains weren't that great, but he always accomplished what he set out to do, whether it was digging a multitude of graves, learning the succession technique, or finding a small bag of medicine by tearing his Master's home apart. He couldn't regret taking Kenshin as his apprentice, even now. His own Master had said to him, _Many will come to you to learn, and you'll teach them. Most you will lose. However, some day you'll look into the eyes of a boy and see the fire which means that boy will succeed. I saw that in you, the day we met._ The only person in whose eyes he'd ever seen that fire was the young Kenshin, and Kenshin had only once disappointed him. And even when the idiot left to join the Revolution, he'd succeeded in what he set out to do, becoming the most effective swordsman in all that repellant chaos. Then (thanks to the principles Hiko had worked so hard to instill in his thick skull), he'd realized that his goal had been wrong all along, and instead of doing the obvious thing and falling on his sword, he'd gone about trying to repent and even to learn to live again, and he was slowly succeeding in that, too. On many levels, as an apprentice, Kenshin had been a disgrace, but Hiko couldn't help but be proud of him anyway. He smiled again. Only Kenshin could have found a way to master the Ama-kakeru-ryu-no-hirameki without slaying his master. It should be impossible for anyone to defeat Shishio Makoto while maintaining a vow not to kill, but if anyone on earth could do it, that man would be Kenshin.

He sat facing the kiln and opened a fresh jug of sake. He'd done everything he possibly could to keep himself so busy that he didn't have to think, but the kiln was full and there weren't any chores left. He couldn't put it off any longer. He had to make some decisions.

The advice about apprentices from his master had been in a letter left in the cottage for him to read after he himself had learned the Ama-kakeru-ryu-no-hirameki. It had absolved him from blame for his Master's death, and then, in a way typical of Hiko Seijuro the 12th, banished guilt as well by laying out in very clear terms the responsibilities of a Hiten Mitsurugi Master which he was now expected to fulfill. A similar letter had been in the cottage for Kenshin, but the idiot hadn't even seen it, despite trashing the rest of the place.

Hiko had known all along, even if he'd never admitted it to himself, that the apprentice he'd chosen, the man who was probably the best swordsman in all Japan now, would not want to take on the name and mantle of Hiko Seijuro the 14th. In the letter, he'd included the admonition and reminder of duties, but he'd added that he was sure Kenshin would be too selfish to take them up. He'd been right about that. Yet he couldn't blame Kenshin. The call to a normal, peaceful life was a strong one, especially for a basically gentle soul who had transformed himself into the Battousai and consequently suffered. Hiko understood that. He didn't condone Kenshin's selfishness, but he accepted it. That was just Kenshin. Hiko had chosen his apprentice both badly and well.

But, damn him, Kenshin had left him in an untenable position. Not once in 13 generations had a Hiten Mitsurugi Master survived the Ama-kakeru-ryu-no-hirameki of his student. And not once in 13 generations had the student not subsequently taken the white cloak and the name of Seijuro Hiko. Hiko now had no idea what his duty was. Was he required to take a new apprentice, this time one who would not only become a master, but also Seijuro Hiko the 14th? Or had his duty ended with the passing along of the succession technique? Was it only the technique and the principles of Hiten Mitsurugi that were important, and the name and cloak only trappings? Or were the latter important symbols, without which the Hiten Mitsurugi style would sink into eventual obscurity?

Kenshin might pass on the principles, but Hiko knew he'd be fooling himself to believe even for a moment that Kenshin would, in his turn, take an apprentice. The Hiten Mitsurugi style could die in this generation in every way except as a philosophy. But was that his fault? He'd done what he was ordered. He'd found an apprentice, taught him all the Hiten Mitsurugi principles, trained him with the sword, and brought him to the culmination of the final attack. That was where it should have stopped, at least for him. Those were the duties his Master had laid out for him. Could he now be held responsible for picking so promising a student and having him turn out to be one who would eagerly learn the principles and techniques, but reject the name? Could he have possibly seen that rebellion in the young boy among the graves? Was there something he'd missed, some way he'd failed?

He looked skyward. If his master's spirit was up there, he was probably having a sidesplitting laugh at Hiko's expense. "Instead of sitting up there laughing, you miserable old man, send me a sign," he muttered.

The sake jug was empty. He swore mildly and rose to get another. When he did, he saw a flicker of white on the trail far below. _Another_ visitor? He considered going into the woods to avoid whoever it was, and then realized the white was from a kimono. Hikaru, then. Only Hikaru would wear a white kimono on a walk up a mountain. She'd get the hem dirty and probably get grass or leaf stains on it, then she'd take it home and hand it to her maid to be cleaned, and the silly maid would accept it and feel honored to be given the task, only because Hikaru smiled sweetly on her and thanked her. Hikaru had that effect on people. Even he wasn't entirely immune.

He straightened a little. He'd asked for a sign, hadn't he? Not that he'd been _serious._ But still, if he were superstitious – which he was not, he left that to Hikaru – he'd call her arrival at this moment a definite sign.

For nearly two-thirds of his life Hikaru had divided at least a part his mind from his Hiten Mitsurugi responsibilities, and never more than in the past ten years, when he'd despaired of ever seeing Kenshin again or finding another such apprentice, seen her almost every day, shared his bed with her, and spent entire days simply being with her. During that time he'd often wished he could marry her, not for his own sake, but to make her happy. He knew she wanted it. She was a woman who couldn't be contented or secure without the bonds of marriage. He didn't blame her for that, given how she'd lived her first twenty years.

Not that she'd ever mentioned marriage to him, or even hinted at it, or expressed in any way a dissatisfaction with their irregular relationship. She wouldn't. But he knew her heart as he did his own, and he knew she would never be completely happy until he married her.

While he understood, he privately thought her desire absurd. After all, why did she need the security? She was an astute businesswoman and manager, as well as a good pottery artist in her own right, and besides these skills, she had the fortune Kimiyama had left her to keep her for the rest of her life. Why should any woman want to give up everything Hikaru had – her friends and servants, kimonos and jewels, her gardens, all the luxuries and graces of her Kyoto home – in order to live alone with him in an isolated cottage? But she had been brought up with the idea that her own duty in life was to take care of men, or a man. To her, that was her destiny, and he was the man she'd chosen. While to him there was nothing wrong with the way things were between them, he could feel her discontent like a tiny ripple in the water, better than even she could feel it. Until now he'd just forced himself to ignore it, because the Master of the Hiten Mitsurugi style could not make room in his life for a wife whom he would soon make a widow.

Now, however, he was no longer the Master. Or rather (damn Kenshin!), he was no longer the _only_ Master. He was still alive, even though he'd done his best to do his duty. Could he now, possibly, set duty aside and take up a life that did not have the boundary of knowing the day and hour of his inevitable death? The thought had a lot of merit. For one thing, it would be a gift from him to Hikaru. For another, his life would be more comfortable. And for yet another, he wouldn't have to worry about her going off and marrying someone else, which was something she was a bit too prone to do.

His head hurt. Too much sake, maybe, or too much heat from sitting before the kiln, or too damned much thinking. Maybe Hikaru would have some insight that hadn't occurred to him yet.

Then he remembered, for the first time this day, that he had never told Hikaru the usual result of the succession technique. By now that meddlesome girl, Sasaki, probably had. It was the only secret he'd ever kept from Hikaru, and he had a feeling that getting any insights from her would have to wait until she wasn't angry at him.

Actually, he didn't really need to ask her anyway, because he knew exactly what she would say. She didn't think with her head, but with her woman's heart. She'd tell him his duty was done and he should marry her. It couldn't be that easy. He'd have to work it out on his own. After, of course, he worked through the problem that was walking toward him now.

She came up to him without ever looking at his face, her eyes on that part of the scar that showed over the neck of his shirt. She stopped wordlessly in front of him and placed her fingers there, so lightly that he barely even felt the touch. Still staring at it, she said, very quietly, "Yuki says that had this been done with anything but Kenshin's reverse blade sword, it would have killed you. She says she isn't sure about that, but I think she wanted to spare my feelings. She does know something about sword wounds."

Just for a second he was tempted to take the easy way out. When she wouldn't meet his eyes, it was because something was going on behind hers. But he owed her the truth. He always had owed it to her but never found it possible to tell her. It was his only act of cowardice since taking up the sword. So he said, "She's right. With any other sword, I wouldn't have survived the blow."

"I don't understand. Did something go wrong? Kenshin would never try to kill you."

"Nothing went wrong. Kenshin completed his apprenticeship. He's now a Hiten Mitsurugi Master, and he can use the Ama-kakeru-ryu-no-hirameki against Shishio."

She looked up at him. "You sound proud of him."

"I am, but you don't need to be telling him so. He's gotten cocky enough as it is."

"But how can you be so pleased when he almost killed you?"

"Because that meant he learned the final attack. Hikaru, come inside and sit down with me. Let me explain."

"All right." Her voice was expressionless. She let him guide her inside, sit her at the table, and pour sake for them both.

He began, "This is going to be hard for you. You never have comprehended the Hiten Mitsurugi beyond the most basic principles."

"I'm sorry."

She said it humbly, falling back on her geisha training, as she often did in times of stress. It never failed to irritate him. "Don't be. It hasn't been necessary. But it is now. Try to listen and think. Don't start acting like a woman and getting hysterical."

That woke her up. Her eyes narrowed at him, but she waited to hear what he would say.

"The Ama-kakeru-ryu-no-hirameki isn't called the final attack for no reason. It's an attack that's meant to kill with one blow, using speed which is beyond godlike and a technique which assures there can be no defense against it. The Ku-zu-ryu-sen, which uses godlike speed to attack all nine points of the kenjutsu at the same time, is only a preparation for using the Ama-kakeru-ryu-no-hirameki. Do you understand?"

Her brow was furrowed with concentration, but she was following him. "I think so. But how can it possibly be taught, then?"

"The only way is to first teach the student the Ku-zu-ryu-sen, and then to convince him that you are going to kill him with that attack. The Ama-kakeru-ryu-no-hirameki can only be used by a person with the strongest will to live. When that will is brought to bear under the attack by a Master with the Ku-zu-ryu-sen, and the student successfully defends himself, then he has mastered the technique."

"You mean you first threaten him, and then expect him to pluck it from the air?"

He sighed. Years of rigorous training, reduced to a single idiotic phrase. "Something like that, yes."

"And what happens if he doesn't?"

"Then he dies at the hand of his Master. Get that look off your face! How many times have I told you that the only use for a sword is to kill people?"

"But we're talking about Kenshin!"

"My apprentice."

He watched, with admiration, as she controlled her expression again and calmed her mind. "But Kenshin mastered the technique. Right?"

"He did. And when an apprentice learns the technique, the Master, who is attacking, cannot defend. Therefore the technique can only be passed from Master to apprentice with the death of the Master."

"But you aren't dead."

"No, I'm not. Kenshin is an exceptional apprentice. In over 300 years of Hiten Mitsurugi, this is the first time that the technique has been taught without the death of one or the other."

Her fingertips touched her lips. "Your own Master? You killed him when you learned it?"

"Yes." He could still remember that day as if it had just happened. At one moment he was more excited than he'd ever been in his life, knowing he'd done something extraordinary, beyond human. He'd had a split second when he'd reached into his body, heart, and soul and everything had come together in a moment of perfection. Then he'd turned, elated, to share his joy with his Master, and saw the blood, and realized what he'd done. No other day in his life had been better, and no other day had been worse.

Hikaru was staring at him, her eyes widening. "Seijuro, that's _barbaric!"_

"I knew you wouldn't understand."

Her eyes were suddenly blazing. "Are you telling me that you've known this all along? From the moment you took Kenshin as an apprentice, you knew that some day you would either kill him or force him to kill you?"

"Yes, of course."

"And today, you faced him, knowing that? Kenshin?"

"Listen to you. You'd rather I hadn't taught him? That I'd sent him, still tormented in his heart, against Shishio with no chance of achieving a victory?"

"Couldn't it have been done another way?"

"If you think so, you underestimate Shishio. And you have no idea of the strength of the Battousai that was once in Kenshin."

"Fight! That's all you men think about! Couldn't he have just left? Hidden? Forgotten about Shishio?"

"He tried that, and they hunted him out. He chose not to go back to an obscure wanderer's life, but to stay and defend the innocent. There is a lot you don't know about Kenshin, Hikaru. I can explain it all to you some day, but for right now, you have to take my word for it. Being the man he is, and the Battousai he was, this fight is one he can't avoid."

She absorbed this thoughtfully. "He knew about this technique? He faced you knowing that one of you would die?"

"Don't be an idiot. Of course he didn't know. If he'd had even a hint of it, I would have killed him. He would never have defended himself with everything he had, and mastered the technique, if he'd known he would kill me by doing so. He would have hesitated, or tried to turn his blade. Either of those would have been fatal."

"You're right. He would have died before harming you. Seijuro, how could you put him through that?"

"You'd rather I denied him? Condemned him to the half-life he was living, always struggling with the Battousai within him? It would be easier for him to struggle with his guilt over something he couldn't help, and for which I freely forgave him."

She put her hands to her temples. "Yesterday... all this week... since Kenshin came here, you knew this would happen?"

"Yes, of course," he said with an effort at patience.

"Why did you never _tell_ me? You never said anything about it. All these years, and you _never_ told me. You said your Master died in battle. You lied to me and hid this terrible thing. Didn't you know what a shock it would be to me? Why did you never warn me? And Yukiyo... Seijuro, you sent her down from the mountain without even letting her say goodbye to Kenshin, knowing she might never see him again? What about all his friends, waiting for him at the Aoiya?" she said, her voice rising.

"I thought I told you not to get hysterical."

"I am not hysterical. I want an answer."

"As far as Sasaki and the others are concerned, I couldn't tell them. I couldn't trust them, not even her, not to warn him. That would have killed him, and then how would they have felt? As far as telling you...." He picked up his sake cup, then set it back down untouched. "At first, when I became a Master... we were young. We'd never even kissed. I didn't want you to think badly of me. As for later, with Kenshin – hell, Hikaru, I brought him here overnight, got up to take a piss in the morning, and came back in to see you sitting there with the kid wrapped around your neck, and the most idiotically rapturous expression on your face. You expect me to have said, 'Put that kid down and don't get attached to him because one of us is going to kill the other'?"

"You could look into that boy's eyes back then, and know that, and not be ashamed?"

"Ashamed of what?"

She rose unsteadily. "I simply can't comprehend this."

He rose, too. "You aren't going to faint, are you?"

"No. I think I'm going to be sick."

"Do it outside!"

She stumbled through the tatami he was using as a door with a total lack of her usual grace. He waited a moment, but when he heard a sound, it didn't sound like sickness. It sounded like crying. Well, he was expecting that. He gathered up his courage and went out.

What he saw shocked him. Not only was she crying, but she was on her knees in the dirt, bent over, striking the ground with both fists. He'd never seen her so out of control. "Hikaru..."

She straightened and turned a tear-streaked, furious face up to him. Her fingers found a stone, and she actually _threw_ it at him, as hard as she could. It bounced harmlessly off his chest, but he was as stunned as if she'd hit him in the head. Not content with that, she grabbed two handfuls of dirt and threw that at him, as well. "How could you _do_ that? Did you never consider _me_, you selfish bastard? Not once? Did you never think how I'd feel?"

"I knew you'd be hurt, but..."

"Hurt?" She turned away from him with an odd, choking sound. "I would have wanted to die. Without you, I would have wanted to die. But if you had killed Kenshin, it would have been even worse, because I would never have let you touch me again with hands that had been stained with Kenshin's blood. How can you say you care about me and condemn me to such misery? People who have hated me have been kind in comparison."

"Will you stop being so melodramatic? People die. I'm going to die eventually anyway. So are you, so is Kenshin."

"But not like this. Not for an abstract principle." She put her hands over her face and moaned. "Oh, no. Oh no."

"Oh no what?"

"I'm just realizing I've been blind. For almost thirty years, stupidly blind." She looked up at him, and the tears flowed freely down her face, unnoticed by her. "I just now see the truth. The Hiten Mitsurugi style means much more to you than I do. More than I ever did. And it always will. All this time, I thought I meant at least as much, and I had such dreams... it was all an illusion. How could I let myself be so fooled?"

He reached for her. "Stand up. Stop this."

She turned her face away from him.

"Hikaru. What about Kimiyama?"

That got her to look at him again. "What does Toshiro have to do with this?"

"Did you love him more than me? Is that why you wouldn't leave him for me?"

"No, of course not! That was a matter of honor."

He raised a brow and waited for it to sink in.

"Seijuro! That's completely different!"

"I don't see the difference."

"Nobody was going to _die!"_ She rose shakily, turning away from him again. "You're going to think me silly for this, but that doesn't matter, really, does it? Do you know what hurts worst of all? Even more than the fact that you were going to cut up my heart by removing from the world one of the two people that I love? It's that you were up here all this time, knowing you might die, and you never sent for me. Not even to say goodbye. You didn't need me, you didn't want me here. You had your Hiten Mitsurugi, and that was all you needed."

"That's not true."

"You didn't send for me. You didn't even do me the honor of allowing me to share your vigil."

"I couldn't afford to weaken myself."

"Oh, yes. I understand that. I've always been aware that, as far as Hiten Mitsurugi is concerned, I've weakened you with my presence. I think," she added in a musing tone, brushing the dirt from her kimono, "that I will go home now."

He took her arm. She stiffened, but she didn't pull away. "Don't," he said. "Don't leave. I want to talk to you. Now that I'm no longer the only Hiten Mitsurugi Master, things can change between us."

She did pull her arm away at this. "They already have changed, Seijuro. Don't touch me again. I need to go home."

He'd been in enough battles to know when he couldn't win. He let her go. And as he watched her leave, regaining more of her dignity and self-control with every step, he realized that his need to think was over. He had given 35 years to the Hiten Mitsurugi. Hikaru was right, it had always meant more to him than she had. But now that he'd come to what he thought was the end of his duties, he wanted to change. Like Kenshin, he wanted to discover what a normal life would be. But if he had to do it without Hikaru, it wouldn't be worth doing. Without her, he definitely would have taken another apprentice and tried again. With her, he would never do so. He wanted her more. It was as simple as that.

He was so stunned that it took him almost an hour to start thinking of ways to express this to her, and longer to finally remember the letters he'd written last night, to Kenshin and to her. They were still in the cottage. He'd never gotten around to tossing them in the fire. They would at least prove she was wrong about the one thing she said had hurt her worst of all. Maybe that realization would be a bridge he could cross back to her. He retrieved them and headed down to Kyoto.

She'd been waiting for Kenshin at that inn, the Aoiya. He didn't know if she was still there and had no idea how to find the place, but for once he got lucky. He spotted Yukiyo Sasaki, striding with her head down in fierce concentration, the Oniwaban cloak still hiding her katana.

She saw him almost as soon as he saw her. "What are you doing here?" she asked, hostile and curious at the same time. "I don't suppose it's to help."

Apparently Hikaru hadn't told her the whole story. Otherwise she would have done her speaking with her sword. "I'm looking for Hikaru. Is she still at the Aoiya?"

"She went home." She glanced obliquely at him. "She seemed very upset."

"That's none of your business," he snapped. "Where's Kenshin?"

"He's gone to Osaka."

_Osaka? What was Shishio doing in Osaka? _ "What's going on in Osaka?" he asked her.

"Kenshin sent us a letter. He says that Saitoh discovered Shishio's plans to have the whole city of Kyoto set on fire tonight, just before midnight. We're trying to stop it."

Hiko knew his history. "Well, that explains why Kenshin went to Osaka. Those fires are a diversion, you know."

"They're still going to happen, diversion or not. Will you help us?"

"No. I have other things to do."

"Which I'm _sure_ are more important than saving the city of Kyoto."

"You and the Oniwaban can handle it," he said, and strode off toward Kimiyama Ceramics.

The shop was closed, which it shouldn't have been at this hour of the day. He went left, down the alley toward the side gate which led to the house. As soon as he was before it, he was confronted by a very alert Bunto. The old soldier was carrying an unsheathed sword in his left hand, but he put it up as soon as he saw who it was. "Hiko-sensei!"

"Where is everybody?"

"There is a plot to set the city on fire, and the lady closed the shop so everyone could defend their own homes and neighborhoods."

"I want to see Hikaru-sama."

Bunto looked uncomfortable. "She said that, if you came, we were not to let you in."

His eyebrow jumped. "You can't stop me."

"No, Hiko-sensei," Bunto admitted unhappily, "but I would have to try. I have never seen the lady so angry, not in all my years of serving her. I would rather face your sword than her wrath."

He couldn't blame the man for that. "All right. Just tell her I'm here and I want to speak with her. See what she says."

Bunto disappeared, and returned just as quickly. "She says she will not see you," he said apologetically.

"What were her exact words?"

"Hiko-sensei..."

"Her exact words."

"She said, 'Tell him he can rot on the doorstep'."

"Very well. Tell her I will."

Bunto bowed deeply and went back inside. Hiko leaned his shoulders against the gate post and waited.

The sun went down, and the moon rose. Hiko stood there, leaning on the post, unmoving, chin sunk on his chest and arms folded. He noted that the city didn't burn, so the Oniwaban and the citizens must be doing their jobs properly. Two of Shishio's minions, thinking him sleeping, did try to sneak past him with tinder and oil. He left the bodies at the end of the alley as a warning to any others and then took up his position again. To his satisfaction, a short time after this minor interruption, Bunto came out, saw him there, and went inside. This happened again about half an hour later, and again in about another quarter hour.

Good, he thought. It won't be long now.

Bunto emerged yet again, bowed, and said, "The lady wants to know what it will take for you to go away."

She was receptive again. It certainly had taken her long enough to cool down. He handed Bunto the letters, one of them inside the other. "Give that to her. I'll wait for her response."

"Hiko-sensei, she might burn it unread."

"Then that will be her response. Just do what you're told, Bunto."

~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~

If Hikaru had cooled down any, it was not evident to Bunto, and he handed the letter to her with a deep bow and considerable trepidation. "He says he will wait for your response."

"Tell him I burned it," she said stiffly. He bowed again and started to leave, but, holding the letter in her hand, she said suddenly, "Wait. Don't go yet. I'll read this first, then call for you."

Looking relieved, he bowed himself out.

She still felt hurt, as if she were bruised inside, both physically and spiritually. She wished Seijuro would go away. She had no desire to see him now or any time in the near future. But he was just stubborn enough to stand out there for a week if she didn't read this, so she might as well. Then she could tear it into tiny bits and send it out again. If she _could_ read it. His calligraphy was terrible. Half the time one couldn't make out the characters. Stupid man.

She turned the letter over and realized, with surprise, that it wasn't addressed to her, but to Kenshin. With a line between her brows, she opened it and found another letter inside, this one addressed to her. Puzzled, she read, _Kenshin, if you have this, then I am dead and you have achieved the Ama-kakeru-ryu-no-hirameki. Congratulations. I am proud of you._ She knew then what it was. He must have written it last night. In a way, it was a last will and testament for a man with no possessions except his principles. Her hands shook, but she gritted her teeth and went on.

She glanced once at the letter with her name on it, then skimmed Kenshin's. There was a very short paragraph of leave-taking and a very long one of what Seijuro considered the duties that Kenshin now owed as the new Seijuro Hiko the 14th. Then – typical Seijuro! – a comment that he assumed Kenshin would be too selfish to assume those duties, followed by _At least now you have what you need, both to defeat Shishio and to eventually be happy._ Under that, Hikaru saw her own name. _I have only one final command to you as your Master. Break this news to Hikaru-sama yourself, gently, and give her this._

She looked at the other letter as if it were an adder. She didn't want to read it. Finally, after several minutes of just staring at it, she unfolded it. It was much shorter than Kenshin's, and the opening salutation startled her.

_Hikaru, beloved_

_ I am sorry. I know this will be a shock, but I couldn't warn you. You would have found some way to stop me, and that would have doomed Kenshin. You won't understand, but I can't help that. There is no way to explain, not to a woman with a heart like yours. I am glad it turned out this way, however, for I did not want to come to you and tell you Kenshin was dead at my hands. Don't blame him. He had no idea this would happen, and he is innocent of anything except being a good apprentice._

_I would very much like to hold you one last time, but I had to choose between my own selfish desires and Kenshin's life. I know you won't mind that I chose Kenshin._

_There are many things I would like to say to you, but they all seem trivial now. Except this, something you know but that I have never once said to you. I love you. I have loved you since the first moment I saw you in that Edo teahouse garden. You are the only thing in this world that I regret leaving._

_Seijuro_

By the time she reached the signature, she was blinking away tears so hard that she could barely see the paper. She set it aside and sat staring at the wall, silently cursing him. He _had_ been thinking of her. He _had_ wanted and needed her. And now, when he had kept this atrocious secret and she desperately wanted to hate him, he did this. As a love letter, it was pathetic. But coming from a man who, as he admitted, had never once in more than 25 years said the word "love" to her, it meant more than all of the pretty verses she'd ever received during her lifetime.

But, dammit, she hated him even more now. How dare he wait until he was going to die, and then put it in a letter? And then bring it now like an offering to a temple, a sacrifice of paper and ink and maybe a little pride, to get her to forgive him for something so heinous? He'd lied to her, deceived her in the most horrible way, about himself and about Kenshin. He'd planned to leave her all alone in this world for the sake of a stupid sword attack. None of his pretty words about helping Kenshin ameliorated that. She crumpled the letter in her fist. _This is not going to work, Seijuro,_ she thought, squaring her jaw. She called Bunto's name, loudly. She would tell Bunto that she was still of the same opinion, and that Seijuro should go back to his damned mountain and leave her alone.

But by the time Bunto came in, she'd changed her mind and was smoothing the paper across her knees.

~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~

Hiko straightened, unconsciously bracing himself when Bunto came out again. If the letters hadn't worked, he had nothing else to try.

Bunto bowed. "The lady says for you to come inside."

He hid his triumphant grin. That would be for later. He followed Bunto up the path to the porch, and Hikaru stood holding the door open with her own hands. He reached for her, and she walked into his arms, putting hers around his neck. "Say it," she said against his shoulder.

He cleared his throat. "Say what?"

"What you said in the letter."

Women. They were never satisfied. "I love you, Hikaru. There. Are you happy now?"

"No. I still hate you."

"Idiot woman. If you hate me, why are you standing in an open doorway, in front of your own home and full view of anyone who passes by, hugging me so tightly you're cutting off my air?"

"As if I could, you thick-necked, thick-skulled beast. What other horrible surprises do you have for me?"

Her tone was light, but he could hear the worry under it. He held her a little tighter. "None."

"You promise?"

"I said none, didn't I?"

She kissed the point of his jaw. "I wanted to kill you, you know."

"That's a truly irrational, but typically female, reaction."

"At least now I know why you became such a famed swordsman."

"Do I want to hear this?"

"You said you had to have a strong will to live, to learn the attack yourself. And there must be dozens of people out there who want to murder you. Maybe hundreds. You therefore became so skilled in order to survive."

"You've said that to me before," he said dryly. "But I became skilled because that was what I wanted."

"And what do you want now?"

He couldn't tell her that, not yet. Although he was forgiven, he knew her grievance wasn't yet dead, but only submerged for the moment under the emotions his letter had stirred. He still had some work to do before she would accept a proposal of marriage with anything but indignation at his insensitivity. He knew he was insensitive at times, but he wasn't a fool. "We'll go into that another time," he said, and picked her up to carry her into the house, shutting the door behind them.

She chuckled. "I know what you want."

"You do not," he said, putting her back on her feet. "I just wanted you off the porch. You know there's going to be violence out there."

She shivered and came back into his arms. "Don't leave me."

He didn't misunderstand her. Whatever was going on in the city this night, that wasn't what was on her mind. "I won't, Hikaru. Never again."


	6. Part 6

This is the battle at the Aoiya as seen from Hikaru's point of view – and believe me, she is not a participant! This story also shows that Hikaru can be as much a jealous female as any woman.

A note to MischiefHobbit (love that name) ~ I actually haven't been bombarded with Kenshin/Kaoru fan flames. I've been very lucky. But if I were, it wouldn't change my mind. I'm old enough to have perspective. I consider the source. Sincere criticism is fine, but flames come from people who don't care about me or my story – so why should I pay attention to them?

~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~ : ~

Kenshin had gone.

In the Aoiya's kitchen, Hikaru blindly folded towels, setting each one on the stack on the kitchen table, each edge precise, each side lined up. Kenshin had gone to his terrible duel, taking with him that brave young man, Sanosuke Sagara, and the policeman, Goro Fujita – no, Hajime Saitoh was his true name.

Manslayers, they called them. Hitokiri. Even Lt. Fujita, who for many years she had believed to be an ordinary police inspector. _Hitokiri. _How she hated the term and everything about it.

Two edges on the towel she was folding didn't match up. Ruthlessly, she shook it out, snapped it, and folded it properly. Almost finished. Then she would start cutting and rolling bandages. She was sure that the Aoiya would not be left in peace this day, and Kenshin and the others would not return unscathed. There would be wounds. Bandages would be needed.

She tried to keep her mind on her work, but it continued to return, again and again, to the same theme. _Kenshin. Could fate be so cruel as to take you from me, so soon after I've finally found you again?_ She shook her head, absently using the back of her hand to brush away wetness on her cheek as she reached for the linen and scissors. She would not cry. He _would_ come back. He had those great warriors beside him, after all. Yuki, too. Hikaru had seen the girl quietly slip out to follow them. Surely there was no battle that could not be won by that team, even one against Makoto Shishio and his Juppongatana. She knew, too, that Kenshin was at the peak of his power, a Hiten Mitsurugi Master now. She had to trust them.

"What are you doing, Hikaru-san?"

She looked up from her task, managed a smile for Okina. "Preparing for battle in the only way I can."

Okina shut the door behind himself and stepped forward, to speak quietly. His expression was serious, even stern. "Kimiyama-san, I am sorry. But I must ask you to leave the Aoiya. Now, while you are still able to."

She slowly rose. She understood, but that didn't mean she liked it. "I know I cannot fight. But I will not get in the way of those who can."

"I do not wish to offend you. But your very presence here is a hindrance, whether you stay away from the fight or not. If the others are aware that you are within, they will have your safety on their consciences. Their thoughts and energies will be divided."

"I ask for no one's protection." Even as she spoke the words, she knew how foolish they were. She bowed. "I apologize. I know I need not ask for it, that it will be given anyway."

"Then you understand why I must make you leave. Return to your home. I promise you, I will send word when Himura-kun returns. Or, if you still wish to be of help to us, then as soon as I believe it is safe."

She allowed a little of her frustration and anger to show. "Am I so useless? Nothing but a burden?"

"I have sent all of our employees and servants back to their homes. Only warriors remain here."

"The warriors still need to be fed, to be tended...."

"After the battle, yes! But not during it. Please, I beg you, do not make me force you to leave. I cannot spare a fighter to escort you, if you become stubborn, but I can take you myself."

"And leave the Aoiya leaderless?"

He nodded.

She bent her head. Slowly, she untied the apron strings, let the apron fall to the floor. "You swear to me to send word? The moment it is safe for me to return? Swear it!"

"I give you my word."

She lifted her chin. "Very well. I will go home and just... _wait_." With this, she swept from the room.

A few minutes later, when she crept back inside, the room was empty. Okina was gone.

Men could truly be fools, she thought with a smile. She had shown Okina just enough strength, and just enough weakness. Enough truth to cover her lie. Enough temper, yet enough submissiveness, for him to believe she had gone home.

_As if anything could tear me away from the place Kenshin will eventually return to._

Nothing on the table had been disturbed. She grabbed the scissors and the linen, and began to cut long, even strips.

As the pile of rolled bandages grew high, she glanced at the fire, thinking of boiling water. She did not dare build the fire up, for fear that Okina or one of the others would notice the widening smoke, so she thought she had better start to heat the water now. Setting aside the scissors, she took two buckets to the well and awkwardly filled them. Just as she was about to go inside, however, she paused and looked toward the street. She thought she heard the murmur of voices. Masculine voices, a lot of them. She set the buckets down, crept up the alley, and peeked around the corner.

There were so many! They were all dressed alike, as if they were soldiers in uniform, but they showed no order or discipline. They had formed a semi-circle around the front of the Aoiya. She couldn't see past the wall of backs, but she could see, above their heads, the clownlike, smiling face of a freakishly round, pink man, and the end of what looked like an enormous scythe.

There would be a battle at the Aoiya, then, a bad one. She crept back inside, remembering to get the buckets.

By the time she had poured the water into pots and put them onto the fire to heat, her arms were trembling with fatigue. She wasn't accustomed to so much hard work. She wished Seijuro was here to lift them for her, as he always did. _I wish he was here to help the others!_ she thought, pressing her clenched fists against her stomach. Never, never would she understand the philosophy which allowed Seijuro to stand back from this conflict, especially now that Kenshin was so involved. These were Kenshin's friends and family. And while they might be great warriors, each one, how could so few stand against so many?

For the first time since the Revolution, she flexed her hands and wished they had learned to wield a weapon. She could do nothing now. But she made a vow to herself. At the very least, she could make sure that she would not become the burden Okina had named her. No matter what happened, she would stay out of sight. She would not scream, or make any sound at all to give her presence away.

Yet... she couldn't just stay here in the kitchen. She had done everything she could, and if she remained here, ignorant, she would just become more afraid. Hurriedly, she stripped off her kimono and donned a servant's yukata from the clean laundry. She pulled all the jeweled and ivory pins from her hair, let it tumble free, then bound it up again in a strip of the linen. Her golden zori were kicked under the table. In her tabi, looking nothing like herself, she peeked through the kitchen door. No one was in the main dining room. They were all outside, facing their enemies. She took a breath and, hunched over, she moved sideways and low to the ground, crablike, across the floor until she reached a place where she could see through a crack in the front door.

What she saw made no sense to her, but then, she knew herself no battle strategist. The four young Oniwaban members were facing the freakishly large, fat man whose face she had seen over the heads of the crowd, and they were already cut and bleeding, but still whole. Yahiko and Kaoru faced a bone-thin man wrapped in black, and Misao stood alone against the scythe-wielder. That last person was giggling and talking about his worship for Lord Shishio.

Something was burning. She frowned. It was faint, but too strong to be someone's kitchen fire. Although she knew she had not been careless, she slipped back toward the kitchen to assure herself that nothing was amiss there. A fine thing it would be, if she burned the Aoiya behind them while they fought for it!

Before she reached the kitchen door, an explosion rocked the floor under her, sending her to her knees. She was too astonished to even wonder what happened. She just knelt there, looking over her shoulder at the front of the Aoiya and seeing dust floating in from the street. _What...?_

Another explosion followed, then more of them in rapid succession. Shaking, she crouched on the floor, arms over her head, and for a confused moment she was back in the Revolution, hearing artillery fire, wondering where Toshiro was. But she didn't scream, not even when the front of the building buckled inward on a cloud of dust. She bit her lip and determined to hold to her vow, and that brought her back to herself. The terror of the Revolution fell behind her, and she realized that one of the enemy must have bombs. She pulled an overturned table toward her and crouched behind its shelter.

Yahiko's yell and the cries of Kaoru and Misao brought her head up in alarm. She stared around the edge of the table and saw Yahiko stumble inside and grab the collapsed door. There was a hideous bloody wound on his back, and she half-rose to go to him. But he was outside again in a heartbeat, with the door, and more explosions rocked the ground.

Huddled back behind the table, too afraid to look again, she strained her ears. She heard Yahiko yell again, in triumph this time. She heard the battle cries of the others. Something hit the roof, and several people screamed Misao's name. Hikaru forgot her fear and rose to her knees to see, but then came a series of crashes, as if someone were trying to beat in the wall. The sounds marched up and down the Aoiya's front, and she heard the man-woman yelling something.

Then silence. Even as she gathered her courage to crawl out of her meager shelter to see what was happening, she heard again the murmur from the voices of the hundred or so men gathered around, a murmur of dismay. Then she heard the sounds of men retreating hastily and without order. Yells, running feet, cries of fear.

The warriors of the Aoiya were cheering and laughing.

She drew a steadying breath. Surely it must be safe to come forth now. Still, she decided to stay low and out of sight until she was sure. Through the gaps in the front of the Aoiya, she heard Kaoru assuring someone that all the wounded would be tended, even their enemies, and Hikaru smiled with pride. She got to her feet and turned for the kitchen to get her supplies of healing now that Kaoru and the others needed them.

_Thud. Thud. Thud._

_What is that?_ The ground vibrated under the slow, even pounding. The sound was steady and sure, like the footsteps of some enormous beast. It came to a stop right behind the Aoiya. Forgetting caution, she ran to the back and looked out – and then stared up, and up.

Like everyone else, she was speechless and paralyzed by the sight of the giant whose form seemed to blot out the sky. In one hand he held a sword of such great size that Hikaru couldn't have measured its width with her spread arms. In the other hand he held a small, wizened old man.

The sword rose, and Hikaru saw that it was going to descend on the Aoiya itself. She leaped aside, throwing herself out of the way of the blade barely in time. In her panic, she forgot her vow and screamed, although in the din of the destruction caused by the weapon, no one heard her. The blade had come down through the roof and upper floor of the Aoiya, and buried itself in the floor not a body's length from Hikaru's outstretched feet. A wide swath of the building seemed to have disappeared entirely, and the part where Hikaru now lay was oddly shaped, the ceiling canting downward. With no apparent effort, as if he'd simply cut a cake, the giant hefted the blade free from the splintered wood and lifted it high again. Instinctively, if uselessly, Hikaru curled her legs up, but she was too terrified to move any more.

However, the sword did not descend again. Instead, the little man began to boast. Through the gap in the walls, she could see all her Aoiya friends. They were still alive and on their feet, but she could see defeat in their slumped shoulders and slackened jaws. She didn't blame them. How could anyone fight a monster that big?

_I have to move. I have to get out of sight._ She felt as if her bones were made of water, and she couldn't stand when she tried. She had to crawl. But, in an act of courage she would never understand, she didn't crawl away to the kitchen, but instead toward the front of the Aoiya, to the left of the jagged gap. Somewhere in her heart was a determination to witness the end of the Oniwaban members and the pair from Tokyo, yet also in her heart was also a hope that, somehow, those courageous warriors would rally and find some way to defeat even this mighty foe.

The enormous sword came down again, far from her this time, but Okina went flying through the air. She covered her scream with one hand, but Okina's Oniwaban members leaped to his rescue, catching him in midair and bringing him to the ground safely.

Her hope soared at that, but then faltered again. All of them were still just standing there, staring up with expressions of awed fear. All, that is, save Yahiko. And Yahiko, that _idiot_, had stepped forward and was challenging the monster! Without so much as a weapon in his hand, he stood there, shouting something – Kenshin's name – at the giant. Her eyes widened as the giant lifted his blade again. She wanted to cover them, but she couldn't move, couldn't lift her hand from her mouth. _Surely not even such a monster would cut down an unarmed boy. No, surely not._ Yet the sword began its downward plunge, and she would have screamed again if she could have moved her lungs.

A flash of white, at the corner of her vision. The others were all shouting to Yahiko, and the descending sword caught the light, dazzling her eyes. But the sound of the impact was not that of steel into flesh, but of steel on steel.

_Seijuro. Seijuro!!_ He stood there, her beloved, with his sword lifted high and protectively over Yahiko's bent head. Caught on it, the giant's sword had notched and cracked, and not all the monster's strength could bring it down another inch past the iron will and muscle of Seijuro Hiko. Hikaru swallowed a tearful gasp. Everything would be all right now.

She had never seen Seijuro fight, not in all the years she'd known him. She had never wanted to, and even when he had been training Kenshin, she had been forbidden to observe. A gasp at the wrong time, he had informed her, would not distract a trained Master like himself, but it would turn Kenshin's head, and such a mistake could cost his apprentice dearly. So, although she had seen occasional glimpses of their sparring, she had honored his command and turned away at those times. Even so, she believed in him, and now she didn't doubt for a moment that he could defeat this monster.

She saw him gather himself, saw his shoulders and arms bunch. The giant's sword fell heavily to one side. Cheers from the others drowned his voice, but whatever he said put spirit back into Yahiko, for the boy started yelling at him. Seijuro picked up the boy as he might a kitten. The others had quieted, and she heard Seijuro blaming Kenshin's lack of directions for his tardiness. Her face grew hot, her admiration turning to exasperation. The man would never change. Even in battle, he was still obnoxious and rude, and _still_ calling Kenshin an idiot!

Yet the words that followed, spoken to the giant, Fuji, were anything but rude. Seijuro spoke to the monster as a man, a man he respected. He praised Fuji's fighting spirit. Even as familiar as she was with his wisdom, Hikaru lost her anger and raised her fingers to her lips again, silently awed by him. Only Seijuro Hiko could have seen through what was visible and obvious, and into the heart of the monster. _No, not a monster. A man._ He shamed them all with his insight, and her fingers pressed her lips harder as her heart swelled with pride in him.

He was still rude to the old man, of course, but by that time, even Hikaru had heard enough from that squealing little fellow to make her grateful that Seijuro was making him shut up.

Then, to everyone's astonishment except Seijuro's, the giant did Seijuro's bidding and shed his armor. As it clattered down like an avalanche, Fuji set the old man on the ground, threw back his head, and let out a battle cry so loud that Hikaru had to cover her sensitive ears. She heard the joy in the cry, the sudden realization of freedom, and she thought, _Seijuro, are you sure you know what you're doing? Do you know what you have unleashed?_

The two men froze, Fuji with blade lifted high into the sky, Seijuro in a curved stance, looking magnificent to Hikaru, like the embodiment of strength in motion, caught in an instant of time. Like a god, he stood there, and in the stillness, Hikaru heard Okina calling him marvelous, and Yahiko saying he was cool. Misao, however, in a more practical spirit, pointed out that if the two of them got into a prolonged battle, they would wreck the Aoiya. Hikaru glanced wryly around her, at the detritus, the gap in the wall through which the sun poured, revealing the buckled hole in the floor and the partially collapsed balcony of the second floor. But even as she miraculously found amusement still within her, she realized it was there because she, like the others, had no doubt that Seijuro Hiko would successfully defend them all.

As Okina had warned, when the end came, it came with incredible swiftness. Seijuro mocked the big man, and his mockery, as Hikaru knew well, would enrage anyone but Buddha himself. Fuji's grip shifted. With two hands on the hilt, he brought the sword down toward Seijuro, and so fast and strong was the blow that the wind of it blew Yahiko backward and sent up a cloud of dust. Debris from the street flew through the air in straight horizontal lines. Hikaru fell back onto her bottom with a yelp, but scrambled at once to her knees and looked out again.

Fuji had swept back his sword, and before him was a crater in the ground. There was no sign of Seijuro, and the little man crowed in triumph that he'd been completely annihilated. Hikaru looked around, sure that Seijuro's speed was greater even than Fuji's, wondering where he'd gone. Then she saw the others looking up, and she looked up, too. And there he was, his sword stuck into Fuji's, clinging nearly upside down to the side of the giant weapon, like an insect on a honey spoon. _A graceful, beautiful sort of insect_, she thought, smiling, her hands pressed now to her breast, watching him make even the impossible look easy, his cape whipping about him in the wind.

He spoke to Fuji, kindly this time. And then, he _flew_. Or that's how it seemed to Hikaru, as if he simply lifted himself into the air with the strength of his great thighs. He even hovered for a moment before descending, and when he fell from the sky, it was not a fall, but a launch. His eyes glowed an eerie blue, and his sword moved too quickly for the eye to follow it. Fuji collapsed, slowly and majestically, like a great oak struck by lightning. Through the cloud of dust raised by his fall, Hikaru saw Seijuro land lightly beside him, resting his sword.

The battle was over.

Hikaru hugged herself. She had never believed that Seijuro exaggerated when he boasted of his own power and skill, but at the same time, it was one thing to believe him and another thing entirely to witness it. Yet, she had not seen him kill today. In his respect for the great warrior, he had turned his sword. Hikaru couldn't see the blade that well, but she heard the others exclaim, and the pride swelled her heart until it felt as if it would fill her entire chest. _Oh, Seijuro. There is no one else like you. No wonder I fell in love with you._

Her eyes narrowed suddenly, her good feelings vanishing. She was not the only one in love with Seijuro at that moment. The two Oniwaban women, Omasu and Okon, were practically swooning over him, cooing at him about how cool he was. And Seijuro was just standing there, smiling, giving a small nod of agreement.

Of course. He knew he was great. That wasn't arrogance, he would claim, but simply an acknowledgement of the truth. A sudden and inexplicable rage filled Hikaru, so that she missed what was said next, until Seijuro's voice cut through her fog. He was talking about Kenshin. He was calling him his stupid apprentice, as usual, but he was telling them all to have faith in Kenshin. Some of her anger died away. He was an infuriating man, but he was also, as Okina said, simply marvelous.

Misao crowed their victory. Kaoru was talking about getting more bandages, now that they had peace to properly tend the wounded. Hikaru drew back into the shadows, but with so much of the Aoiya gone, even crouched down she couldn't find a shadow large enough to hide her before Kaoru stepped inside.

Kaoru's eyes widened, but even as her lips parted, Hikaru signaled her to be quiet. Kaoru nodded, still wide-eyed, and the two women went quickly back to the kitchen.

Miraculously, there was no damage in that room. Even the pots of water hadn't spilled.

"Hikaru-san, why are you here?" Kaoru asked, automatically taking the pot that Hikaru carefully handed her. "Okina-san told us you had gone."

"Okina-san is a man. A man never seems to realize that a woman won't always obey him, especially not when he believes he is in the right."

"You... you've cut bandages. So many."

"I thought they would be needed." She filled a cloth with towels and bandages, tied it into a bundle, and slung it from Kaoru's free arm. "You can come back for the rest if you need it."

"Were you here the whole time?"

"Yes. Never mind that, just go. Don't waste time here with me. But, Kaoru-san, please don't tell anyone that you saw me. I don't want Okina-san to be upset," she said, which was the truth, if not all the truth. Unless Yuki or Kenshin had mentioned it – and she did not believe they would have – no one here knew of her relationship with Seijuro, so she certainly wasn't going to add _And I don't want Seijuro to strangle me_.

Kaoru nodded, her expression innocent. No, she did not know. "I certainly won't say anything. But I am glad you weren't harmed. I suppose you stayed right here in the kitchen until just now? Safe?"

"Yes, of course," Hikaru lied smoothly.

"Oh, that's good," Kaoru smiled, and left with her burdens.

Ten minutes later, once more in her good clothes, although with her hair pinned up more loosely than usual, Hikaru approached the Aoiya from the direction of her home. She hoped no one would notice the somewhat less than perfect appearance which was the best she'd been able to do with no mirror. She quickened her footsteps, so that her seeming hurry to get to the Aoiya might be some excuse for dishevelment.

Fuji still lay in the street, unconscious, although his little friend was gone. The scythe-person was also still sitting there, smiling wryly, but with a deep underlying sadness. The others were either washing and bandaging wounds, or being washed and bandaged – all save Seijuro, of course, and Okon, who was pouring sake for him. The girl was standing before him in a pose that, with the ninja outfit she wore, revealed her entire shapely leg. Hikaru could have told her that Seijuro was not such a slave to his masculine desires that so obvious a ploy would affect him in any way, but he was also not pushing the girl away from him. In fact, he was smiling down at her.

_Smiling._

Fuming and struggling to hide it, Hikaru ignored him to kneel beside Kaoru. The girl greeted her with apparent surprise, a born conspirator. "I want to help," Hikaru said.

"There are more bandages in the kitchen, and hot water. Would you mind going for them? Only be careful going through the front room. Part of the floor is gone."

Hikaru made a show of gaping at the damage and the fallen giant, and of insisting they tell her everything when they had time. She then picked her way back to the kitchen. With quick, jerky movements, she wrapped up the remaining towels and bandages. Then she found a holder and placed it around the handle of the simmering pot of water.

Another hand, a huge one, closed over hers and moved it away from the heat. Seijuro had come in silently behind her. He lifted the pot, but his eyes didn't express his usual annoyance that she'd tried to do the task herself. Instead, they were narrowed suspiciously.

Sometimes the best defense was to attack first. She allowed some of her anger to seep into her expression and thanked him coldly. "I'm grateful that you could tear yourself away from your pleasures to help me."

But sidetracking Seijuro was like trying to push over an oak tree. "You were here," he said.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You may be able to fool those people out there, Hikaru, but I know you. I know when you're acting, when you're lying."

She didn't react, not even with a blush. "I admit I didn't go all the way home, as I told Okina-san I would, but..."

"You were here," he said in that gravelly low voice that meant he was furious. "Right here, probably in this kitchen."

"I would not deliberately put myself in so much danger."

"How long are you going to keep trying to lie to me?" His hands were suddenly on her arms, forcing her into the nearest chair. He lifted her foot and yanked off her zori. "Sawdust. You didn't get those on your tabi by waiting up the street." He gave her back the zori, almost flinging it at her, then looked around and grabbed the servant's yukata from the shelf where she'd tucked it. He held it up. "Disguise?" he said, with unerring shrewdness, tossing it aside without waiting for her to reply. Then his eye lit on something under the table, and he bent, coming up with one of her hair pins.

"I could have lost that days ago," she said defensively.

"But you didn't. Did you?" When she didn't answer, he suddenly knelt before her, not in any kind of supplication, but so that he could give her a good shake. "Curse you, you willful, stupid woman. I believed you were safe! I told you to stay at home and _be safe!"_

"You mean stay at home and be a coward and abandon my friends?" she retorted just as savagely.

"Yes. For my sake. That's not cowardice – nobody questions your courage. But for me. You call me selfish, but you're as selfish as I am." He released her, sitting back on his heels, holding her eyes with his dark, stormy ones. "I think we are now even for the Amakakeru Ryu no Hiromeki."

"No."

"No?" He rose, his face cold. "You risked your life without telling me, as I did. I think that makes us even."

She was so angry, she fumbled trying to put her zori back on her foot. "Fine. We're even. I didn't realize we were keeping a score, but whatever you say must be right. After all, you are the marvelous and cool Hiko-sama, aren't you?"

His brow went up.

"Oh, go away! Go back to your worshippers!"

And, damn him, his mouth started to curve in a smile. "Worshippers?"

"Yes! Go get your sake and your adulation, and another look at that girl's legs. Go."

"I wasn't looking at her legs."

"Oh yes you were." He hadn't been, but she was too angry to be reasonable. "And smiling! Enjoying yourself. Well, you can just go back to them – her – them, and leave me here where I can be of some use. I am going to cook!" She rose, grabbing a skillet.

Perhaps wisely, he caught the skillet and took it out of her hand. "Hikaru – are you _jealous?"_

He was amused, and she felt the blood burning in her ears and behind her eyes. "No. Why would I be jealous of such an arrogant, unfeeling, dictatorial man as you? If you ran away with Okon tomorrow, she'd return in a week, begging me to take you back. I probably couldn't lose you if I tried." Those words stung him for some reason; his brows came down. That restored some of her self-control, and she drew herself up haughtily. "Go back out front. You worked hard, so you deserve to have a little extra honey poured over your self-love."

"That's very kind of you. Did you see the fight?"

"Yes, and...." She stopped, appalled at her lack of sense.

"I knew it," he snarled. "You didn't even stay here in the kitchen. You came out into the Aoiya." Alarm edged his harsh voice. "You were there when Fuji knocked part of it down."

Although she was forced to summon all her strength to avoid going to him to give him comfort, outwardly she remained cold. "You're changing the subject."

He scowled. "That particular subject is ridiculous. Your apparent lack of consideration for my concern about your safety is the subject I want to discuss."

She ignored that last sentence and waved a hand airily, with a smile so false it was nothing more than a baring of the teeth. "Oh, of course it is a ridiculous subject. What do a woman's feelings matter in the aftermath of a battle?" She snapped the smile shut and glared at him. "I don't want to discuss anything at all with you. Go back out and get your boots licked. I don't care."

"Oh yes you do. You care very much, for some obscure reason. Do you have any idea how silly you sound?"

"No more than you, standing there shouting at me because I'm telling you that I have no desire to spoil your _fun_."

"I'm not shouting!"

She lifted a brow.

In a consciously lowered tone, grappling with self-control, he said, "You're making something out of nothing."

"Am I? I suppose I must be seeing things, then, for I could swear that I saw that girl plastering herself all over you, and what I did _not_ see was you pushing her away or discouraging her in any way."

Seijuro Hiko's temper, when roused, was formidable, but Hikaru was angry enough herself that she watched him get himself under control with no other feeling than a mild regret. "Hikaru Murasaki Kimiyama," he growled, using both her married names, "I could teach you a thing or two about jealousy. But that is not what I want to talk about."

She drew herself to her full height. "I told you, I don't wish to talk to you about anything right now. Leave this kitchen. Go back to that half-naked girl and her jug of sake."

He made an exasperated sound, but his voice, when it finally emerged again, was calm and reasonable. "You know little about battle..."

"This has nothing to do with...."

"Silence! This has everything to do with the battle." Controlling himself yet again, he went on reasonably, like the teacher he was. "Once a battle is finished, those who participated in it usually still have energy within them – energy created by the heat of the fight – that they must work off."

"Oh, I know all about that. That's usually the excuse warlords make for their men pillaging a village and raping its women, after a battle is won. So," she waved a hand, "go and rape her."

"Sometimes, the things that come out of your mouth amaze even me." He put his hands on his hips. "_I_ don't have battle heat to rid myself of. I've been in too many fights, and I have far too much control and skill to need to work up the kind of excitement that sharpens the abilities of others. I am talking about the Oniwaban girls. They just emerged from a life-or-death battle, something to which they are not accustomed, and their emotions are exaggerated. Furthermore, they won what they thought was a hopeless fight, so their spirits are high. Those feelings need release. I don't feel the need to discourage those feelings, which will all pass off quickly enough once the battle fever is gone. And if you had not been here," he added in a tight tone, "where you should not have been, then you would never have seen it."

"You prefer to do your flirting as well as your fighting where I can't see it?"

"I wasn't flirting!" Once more he dragged his temper back under his control. "I can see that the only way I can reassure you is to approach you as a woman."

"Stop patronizing me," she said coldly.

His lips curved. "I do love your temper, Hikaru. But I think we've had enough of it."

"I said to stop patronizing me, you conceited, overbearing, arrogant ass."

He gripped her arms, not tightly, but showing her his strength so that she knew she would not be able to break the grip. Yet his voice was soft. "Hikaru. I have you. Why would I want to look at any other woman?"

His rare tenderness always disarmed her. "But you were looking."

"Only out of courtesy and respect. It shouldn't trouble you."

"But it _does_."

"Why?"

"She... she's so much younger than I am," she said, trying not to let her voice quiver.

"She is a child, yes."

"And more beautiful."

"No woman is more beautiful than you, in my eyes. And in ten years, or twenty, I will still be saying the same thing, and it will still be true."

"Then why did you let her crawl all over you like that?" she demanded.

"Because it helped her and did not harm me."

"It hurt me."

"You were hurt, not because of what that girl did, but because you were where you should not have been. And because you don't trust me."

"I..." He was right. Now she felt her face flushing. "I do trust you. But she is so young and lovely, and a warrior, and – everything I'm not."

He released her, scowling. "Do you really think so little of me? Do you think me so weak that, having chosen you, I would succumb in a moment to someone who, as you say, is everything you are not?"

"No, but..."

"If you truly trusted me, there would be no 'but' in this conversation."

Her pent-up emotion burst out. "I do trust you! I just don't want some other woman _handling_ you."

At that, he laughed, his big, full-bodied, most annoying laugh.

She snapped, "I know it's childish and unfair, but I still don't like it."

"I suppose I should feel flattered."

"Don't you?" she asked, sullen.

He touched her pouting lower lip with one finger. "No. I'm insulted. You know me better than anyone does. I have been waiting for you for more than half my life. Now, when I am finally able to ask you to marry me, you believe, even irrationally, that I would turn away from you for a young girl I just met? And you call yourself an intelligent woman."

She gasped. With the words _marry me_, all the air had left her lungs, as if she had been punched. "Seijuro..."

"What?" he demanded, annoyed.

"Did you just ask me to marry you?"

"No, I did not. I simply said that now, with Kenshin's training complete, I am able to do so. Jealousy turns your brains into soba."

Jealousy was forgotten. Okon was forgotten. Even the Aoiya and the battle were forgotten in the future that suddenly opened before her. At last, the one thing that was her heart's greatest desire would be given to her. "A-are you going to ask me to marry you?"

"Yes, but not until Kenshin returns and you don't have the best part of your mind focused on my stupid apprentice."

"My answer is yes."

"I haven't asked you yet! There's Kenshin to worry about. And there are things we have to discuss first. Such as where we'll live."

"On the mountain, of course. Can I have a garden?"

"A small one. But what about...?"

She flung her arms around his neck. "Shut up, you idiot. What does anything else matter, except that we will belong to each other, forever and ever, from now on?"

"In other words, you are saying that a good cure for jealousy is security."

She leaned back to smile into his eyes. "Of course. Isn't that the reason you want to actually marry me?"

"Indirectly. It is true that, if you're married to me, you won't go off and marry someone else."

She laid her cheek onto his shoulder. "Don't be so romantic. You'll make me soft."

"You're already soft. Let me go. You wanted to cook, remember?"

She laughed, held him more tightly, then released him. "You just want to go out and flirt with that girl again," she said, but this time teasingly, her eyes merry.

"I am not flirting, I keep telling you. I'm just allowing her to pour sake for me. I'm not going to pass up good sake simply because you have decided to let your brain be swamped with hysterical female notions."

"Then when you come to my home to propose marriage, you had better bring a very good atonement gift."

He looked at her a moment, his expression stilled. "It's good to see you laugh."

The reminder took away her merriment. If Kenshin were killed today, how long would it be before she would have the heart to be happy like this again? Seeing that he was reading her thoughts, she put out a hand, and he took it. "He will come back, won't he?" she whispered.

"He will come back. But, Hikaru, he's changed, and this fight will change him even more. You will scarcely know him. You have to face that."

She raised his hand to her cheek. "You'll be there to help me."


	7. Part 7

This is the final chapter of "Reunion". (Yes, I finally finished it!!) This was very difficult to write, because the emotions are low-key yet intense. Hikaru is finally coming to terms with the fact that Kenshin isn't her child any more, and Kenshin is, as usual, trying to find peace in a difficult situation.

To those of you who have followed this story after it took such a long time, I thank you. You're the best. And a special thanks to the special friends who have loved Hikaru enough to encourage me to write this tale.

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Sanosuke Sagara slouched onto the porch of the Aoiya, dropping beside Kenshin with a grunt. Kenshin was alone – a rarity lately – and reading something, and at the moment, that was the most interesting thing happening in the Aoiya. Sano was bored. He wanted to get back to Tokyo, to his own life and friends and pursuits. Not that the Oniwabanshuu was a bad group. They were his friends now, too. But no matter how welcome they made him feel, Kyoto was not home.

"What's that?" he demanded.

"Just a note. From Hikaru-dono."

" 'Hikaru-dono' ? I thought she said it was all right for us to call her Hikaru-san."

"She did say that."

"But I guess she didn't mean it, huh?" Rich people, he knew, could be weirdly capricious.

But Kenshin said, "She meant it, that she did."

"Then why are you calling her Hikaru-dono, all of a sudden?"

"I don't know."

Sano rolled his eyes. "So, what does she say?"

"She wants me to visit her."

"Great! I can't wait. Her cooking is terrific." They'd gone to the Kimiyama home once before, at Hikaru's invitation, all of them, to celebrate Kenshin's recovery, and she had entertained them like royalty.

"Not you. Just me."

"Oh." Sano was crushed, but only for a moment. "So, is this going to be, like, a mother sort of thing?"

Kenshin shot him an annoyed look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you told us she was like your mother. So is this going to be one of those talks? You know, where she tells you what a jerk you've been, scaring everyone like you did?"

Kenshin sighed. "Probably."

"Are you going to go?" When Kenshin didn't answer, Sano said, "You _are_ going, right?"

"I don't know."

"Kenshin! She's like your mother, right? You can't just say no to your mother. You _have_ to go."

"She's not really my mother."

Sano snorted. "All right, then what is she? Not a girlfriend. Yuki would have killed her already, if that was the case. Although she is really pretty," he added appreciatively, "so I guess she could be your back-up girlfriend."

"Sano!"

Grinning at having gotten Kenshin to react, Sano went on musing. "There's something to be said for older women. They're mature. They aren't going to give you a hard time, like Misao-chan or the Little Missy. Yeah, that sounds good to me. You should go. Just don't tell Yuki."

"You should stop working your imagination. Have some respect for Hikaru-dono."

"Oh, I do! Lots. But then, she's not inviting me for a cozy little private chat, she's inviting you."

Kenshin tilted his head back, looking up at the sky. "Somehow, I don't think this will be a cozy chat, as you call it."

"Probably not. But come on, Kenshin." He gave Kenshin a playful punch on the arm. "You're the guy who beat Makoto Shishio. Hikaru-san is just a nice lady. You can handle her. Or, hey, do you want me to come with you, to help again? I'll see if Aoshi will get off his butt and come along as well. Too bad Saitoh's not still around," he added, with true regret. "But the three of us ought to be able to handle one woman. We'll have to leave Yuki behind, though," he added thoughtfully.

"You're being silly."

"_I'm_ being silly? You're the one sitting around here, too scared to go talk to a woman."

"You would be, too, if you knew her well."

Sano pondered that. "I guess. I haven't known her for long, and we haven't seen much of her since you got on your feet, but I remember that once, she shut up your Master with just a glance. That's pretty impressive, you've got to admit. Yeah, all right, I guess you can be scared if you want."

"Thank you," Kenshin said sarcastically.

"Want me to go instead of you and take your place? I can talk to a lady."

"You'd just eat all of her food, break a few things, and make her mad at both of us."

"I'd be careful!"

Kenshin's face suddenly lightened into a smile. "That would probably make you even more clumsy, that it would."

Sano folded his arms on his chest. "So what's the _real_ problem, Kenshin? What's really wrong?"

For a moment, he didn't think Kenshin would answer him. Kenshin just stared up at the sky, silent. But Sano knew him, and knew to wait for him. At last Kenshin sighed and said, "She was kind to me, when I was an apprentice. But her heart is very gentle. I knew, when I became a hitokiri, that she would never understand. So I made myself dead to her."

"You mean, you didn't try to explain that whole Battousai thing to her at all."

"No. I didn't."

"Dead, huh? Does that mean you left Kyoto without saying goodbye to her?"

"Yes."

"Or even telling her you were leaving?"

"That is right."

"Did you even write her a letter?"

"No."

"Kenshin, you really are a jerk."

"I know."

"It wouldn't have killed you to send her a letter."

"I thought she would be happier if she thought I was dead."

Sano rolled his eyes. "For a guy as smart as you are, you don't know anything about women, do you?"

"How much do _you_ know?" Kenshin retorted.

"Not much," he admitted cheerfully. "Women can't be understood by a guy. But I still know a whole lot more than you do! Hikaru-san may be rich and, you know, an older woman, but she isn't all that different from Megumi or the Little Missy. She's still a woman, and the way you describe it, she considered you her son. So how do you figure that believing you were dead would make her happy? What a moron."

"Better than her knowing the truth."

"What? That you were wandering all over Japan being a hero, defending the weak without ever killing anyone? Yeah, that would have upset her a lot." At Kenshin's annoyed glance, he grinned. "Oh, you mean the whole Battousai thing. Which she never found out about, right? Since she doesn't know anyone in Kyoto who was likely to tell her about Battousai being a young red-headed guy, like that one-armed guy who works for her...."

"Bunto."

"Right. I'm sure he didn't know. He looks like the sort who couldn't keep an ear to the ground, nope," he said, ladling on the sarcasm. "Not to mention that she knows nearly everyone important in Kyoto, including Saitoh, and she throws all those parties. No way that gossip would have come to her that way. Or, wait, maybe she lived like a hermit when her husband was alive."

Kenshin's annoyed look became a glare, and Sano happily continued. "She probably knows the whole story. But she's forgiven you anyway. Not just for being Battousai, but for letting her think you were dead, too."

"Why do you think that?"

"You really are a moron. Wasn't she here when we got back from kicking Shishio's ass? Didn't she stick around while you were in a coma? She has all those servants, but did she bring one of them over to help us with you? No, she nursed you with her own hands. And she cried a lot, too. That was pretty bad," he added with a shudder. "But she wouldn't have done all that if she hated you."

"I suppose you're right."

"You know I'm right. Come on, admit it. She just wants you to grovel a bit, is all. Go see her and just apologize!"

A short silence followed.

"Kenshin?"

"All right, I'm going!" Kenshin snapped.

"Good." Sano slapped him on the back. "You owe it to her, after all. She's been really good to you. To all of us."

Kenshin blinked, and Sano realized that, for a moment, Kenshin was looking somewhere that only he could see. Then the violet eyes cleared, twinkled, became normal again. "You're right again."

"I'm always right." When Kenshin didn't argue with that, he added, "What am I right about?"

"I owe Hikaru-dono a great debt. The very least I can do is go to talk to her alone, and try to explain. But, Sano, I don't think you're right about her wanting me to grovel, exactly."

"What does she want, then? According to you."

"That's the problem. I'm not sure. Maybe more than I can give her."

He sobered. "Like what? You're not the same mixed-up guy who came here a little while ago, Kenshin. You've become a Hiten Mitsurugi master without breaking your vow not to kill, and put Battousai behind you for good. She's already forgiven you for the past. Maybe. So she..."

"Maybe?" Kenshin squeaked.

"Well, women can be funny about that kind of stuff. But mostly, anyway. I think."

"Oh, you're a lot of help, you are."

"And hey, maybe you ought to think about what _you_ want."

_"Oro?"_

"Yeah. I mean, if you don't want her as a mother, or a friend, or a girlfriend..."

"Sano!"

"I'm just saying! But if you just want her to be dead to you, like you were to her, then just ignore that invitation. Yeah, that'll be a lot easier."

"You know I can't do that."

"Yeah. I do know. Because you're a decent guy, and she's a nice lady, and you owe her."

"You make it sound really simple, but she isn't a simple woman."

"So what? Keep it simple anyway."

Kenshin suddenly smiled. "You sound like my master."

"Huh?" Sano couldn't figure that one out at all.

"Never mind. I'll explain it to you later. Give me the letter. I'll go."

"Explain what? Explain it to me now!"

But although he followed Kenshin through the Aoiya and halfway to Madame Kimiyama's house, demanding that Kenshin explain whatever the mystery was, Kenshin didn't tell him.

The water flowed with a soft, muted tinkling, as lazily peaceful as the huge, colorful koi that circled the pool. On the edge of the fountain, Hikaru sat beside Kenshin, her fingers trailing in the water, enticing the fish to come to her and nibble. "Do you remember the first time you came to visit me? You snatched one of the koi right out of the water."

They had been making small talk – mostly about the Aoiya and their friends – and she had only been given his profile to watch. But at this, he looked at her, his face lighting with amusement. "I was trying Shishou's lesson on catching fish. To eat."

"I should have known Seijuro was to blame for that, in some way." She smiled. "The fish was nearly as big as you were."

He turned his head. She had only the profile again. "That was very long ago."

"A lifetime ago, it seems." No response. _What can I do? What do I say? It used to be so easy to talk to him. Now, I feel like a stranger. But I am not a stranger! I do know him. No matter what has happened, no matter what he's done, he's still Kenshin._ Yet, still, no words would come to her. She stroked the water and watched the impenetrable profile. He had bent his head so that his bangs covered his eyes. She wanted to touch his hair, to draw him against her, but she could not. Seijuro was right. Kenshin was a man now. There was no sign of that little boy who had terrorized her koi and filled an empty place in her heart.

"Kenshin..." Unable to stop herself, she reached out, touched his arm.

He looked at her. His eyes were not empty or shuttered, but they could not be read. She pulled her hand back. "What do you want from me?" she asked, letting the words stumble out.

He looked surprised. "Odd. That's what Sano asked me."

"If I am using the same words as that adorable but silly young man, then I need to think better before opening my mouth." Encouraged by his slight smile, she said, "But I still want an answer." She drew a breath. "Do you want me utterly out of your life? Do you _want_ to remain dead to me?"

He stared at the ground again, and her stomach lurched. Her view of his chin, his cheekbone, his shoulder gave her no clue to his feelings. He said quietly, "I wish you had never needed to learn that I was alive."

"Why? Why would you wish me so much pain? How did I fail you?"

"I failed you."

"Yes. Yes, you did. But you failed yourself more. And you've punished yourself, and me, enough already. But what does that have to do with it? With today? With what you want now?"

"We cannot bury the past. What we have been, and done, in the past has made us what we are. You can't hold up your fan before your face and pretend to believe that I was never a murderer, as long as we don't talk about it."

His words stabbed at her. Pale, she said, "It seems to be my fate to love men who are murderers."

"Yes."

"Then we'll talk about it. Without my fan," she snapped. When he looked at her, his eyes still with that unreadable depth to them, she said, "When I learned – when Toshiro told me – that it was you who was killing all those people, I hated him for telling me. I hated Seijuro for telling him. I hated, most of all, the men who sent you to kill. But I didn't hate you. Not for a single moment."

"Because you still thought of me as your child."

"Yes. Just because of that. I see now that I was wrong. I should have hated you, then, too. You made the choice, didn't you? You weren't the misguided child I thought you were."

He hesitated before saying, staring at the ground again, "I was misguided. But the choice was mine. Every night, with every death that I caused, I made that choice."

She felt as if a piece of her heart had broken off and was drifting away, the piece which had loved a little boy as her own. It would drift into her memories, no longer to be a vital part of her being. But despite the pang of that separation, her heart said that Kenshin, her Kenshin, was still beside her, if she could only find him. "Then you made the choice to atone. And for ten years, you have continued to atone for what you did."

He nodded.

"May I ask you something?"

He nodded again.

"Did you ever love me, as I loved you?"

He became absolutely still. Even his breathing stopped.

"It's a simple question," she said.

Even with only his profile to study, she could see the moment when he decided to tell her the truth, see the rise of his chest as he took a breath and the tiny shift of his shoulders as he braced himself. But when he spoke, his voice was, as always, calm and soft. "I am not sure you will understand this, but it is because I loved you that I could not look at you when I had blood on my hands."

"You thought I would be afraid of you? Love you less? Be shamed by you?"

"To be totally honest, it was nothing so noble. I believed – I knew – that I would feel my own shame even more deeply than I already did, if I came to you. Maybe too deeply to go on living with it."

"But I would have forgiven you."

"I know."

She struggled to understand. "You make it sound as if my forgiveness would have been a curse."

"That is exactly right."

She flinched, and drew in a hitching breath.

Still staring at the ground, he said, "Hikaru-san. Please do not cry."

"No. I won't." She was silent for a full minute, trying to comprehend what he meant. "You didn't want to be forgiven, did you? And especially not by me, or Seijuro. Because you couldn't forgive yourself."

"At the time, it wasn't so coherent a thought. I only knew that seeing either of you was something I couldn't face. So I left without a word. I convinced myself that was the best thing I could do for you."

"Do you know, now, that you were wrong?"

"I know, now, that I selfishly did what was the best thing for me."

"Oh, Kenshin. It was the only thing you _could_ do. Even your strength must have been faltering under the burden you already carried, without adding me and Seijuro to it."

There was a change in his profile, a slight but perceptible relaxation in his mouth. "You are being very understanding."

"I know I would not have been able to help you then. I might have hurt you even more deeply. This is something I've only recently been able to accept." Despite her best intentions, her anger at that long-ago betrayal slipped through a crack in her guard. "But you could have written to me! You could have let me know you were alive! Couldn't you?"

"Nothing had changed. Not enough."

"Until now?"

"Even now, it is hard."

She folded her hands in her lap. "You and Seijuro make fun of the way I hide behind my fan, as you put it. But sometimes that is the wisest thing to do. The past is done, and we cannot change it. I must stop blaming you for it. And you must stop blaming me."

He looked at her, startled. "I don't...."

"You do. You blame me in your heart for being too good, too noble, too loving to have ever accepted you as a slayer of men. Because you believe I have those qualities, you love me, but you have used them as an excuse not to face me."

He still had his face turned toward her. "You may be right," he said after a moment.

"And I have blamed you. For being foolish, for allowing yourself to be used as a tool of destruction, for not loving me enough to trust me. We have both been right, and both been wrong. For our own peace of mind, we must set those feelings aside. I know that. I have known that since you first came back, and you came to see me with Yuki. Now I want to make you see it. The problem is... what frightens me..."

"Is what?" he asked gently.

Now it was her turn to look away. "I am afraid that, when all the past is put behind us, and all the twisted emotions between us are smoothed away, then you truly will be able to walk away from me. I am afraid that only those things join us, and that you will never again need me or want to care for me." She brought her hands up, impatiently wiped her cheeks. She had told him she wouldn't cry. "You don't need me. Why should you? You have friends. No, you have a family now. The one thing I always wanted to give you, you have found with others. My time in your life ended long ago, and I just c-can't accept that."

His hand circled her wrist, moved up. His fingers curved around her palm, as they had when he'd been a boy. "You are right. I no longer need you. But I still want you." He smiled when she looked at him. "You have always been afraid of things that I didn't understand. I don't want to hide away the past, Hikaru-san. I don't want to forget how you became my mother, the person who truly loved me for no reason, just because I was me. You asked me what I wanted from you, and I'll tell you. I want you to love me as you did before. I want you to forgive me for hurting you and hiding from you. I want to always be welcome here in your home, and to know that I can continue to trust you as I always have."

"Kenshin, I'm going to cry."

"Please don't."

"How can I help it?" However, she managed to get by with only a few tears and a single, wrenching sob. "When you have children, can I be their grandmother?"

_"Oro?"_

"All right, if you have children."

He smiled. "If I do, it would be a good thing for them to have you for a grandmother." He tilted his head, studying her, his hand still wrapped around hers. "I have told you what I want. What do you want, Hikaru-san?"

"I only want to be allowed to love you. Will you let me love you?"

"If that is what you truly want."

She slid her hand over his cheek, and he didn't flinch away, nor did his eyes, smiling, change their expression or avoid hers. "It is everything I want," she sighed. She wanted desperately to hug him, to hold him in her arms. But he was a man now, and she couldn't do that. If she were going to love the man, she couldn't treat him as a boy.

He must have read her desire, because his eyes suddenly twinkled. He put his arms around her and drew her close. To her surprise, it felt natural and right for her to put her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder, rather than the other way around. She couldn't hold him tightly, for his wounds were still tender, but she enveloped him softly in her arms, then kissed his cheek and let him go.

"Are you happy now?"

"I am as happy as anyone can ever be. I have everything I have ever wanted." _And soon I'll have more. I'll have children to care for. Your children._ But he wasn't ready to hear that yet. "Are you happy?"

He answered her seriously. "I'm not sure. I think it might be a long time before I can feel true happiness. But I am satisfied and contented. It feels good not to be afraid of you now."

She smiled. "That sounds close enough to happiness to satisfy me." She rose. "May I walk with you back to the Aoiya? I would like to visit your friends today. Our friends." The smile within her heart came to her lips. "Our family."


End file.
